Deepest Night
by Forensica X
Summary: Alice sees the future but cannot remember the past. But knowing what she does, would she want to? This is the story of Mary Alice Brandon - The story Alice Cullen doesn't want to believe. Alice/OC and later Alice/Jasper.
1. The wise fear the dark

A warning to the reader: The methods used to cure mental illness and the abuse sustained by mental health patients was horrific at best in some cases. Alice's amnesia of her time as a human and the fact that she was disowned and declared dead by her family alludes to such abuse. Do not continue if you cannot stomach abuse, gore, angst, molestation, and things sexual in nature. There will be a happy ending, as there always will be in my stories. Antagonists include James along with a few villains of the mortal variety. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I never have and never will own anything mentioned in SM's Twilight. I am but a poor student. She is a God. All things referring to "Wonderland" is borrowed from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll. I make no profit. Enjoy.

. . . . . . . . .

Chapter One: The wise fear the dark

. . . . . . . . .

_Flashes of light and color. There, a glint of teeth, a spurt of blood, then blackness and burning followed by the cacophony of granite shrieking as it shreds. Too vibrant, the expression of my Mr. Manning frozen on his icy face as an arm is ripped from the struggling body. The other face, feral in nature, furious for the kind angel's transgressions. _

"_I've changed her. It's too late! You can't have her!" Manning screams. The Blonde Demon chuckles and twists the other's head in a sickening show of strength. Severed from the still-thrashing limbs and torso, the mass of brunette hair and alabaster flesh flies through the air and lands with a grating sound against the cinderblock wall. A little rubble comes loose from the impact and the Demon grins, continuing the noisy dismemberment before setting the pieces aflame. Purple clouds of smoke billow upward, clouding the room. _

My eyes snapped open in horror, a scream spilling from my lips, undiluted by the presence of other people or furnishings. The unadorned cinderblock walls echoed the sound back in protest. Hands clutching the sides of my head I began rocking back and forth on my small pallet, pulling worriedly at my shortened hair.

"No, no, no, no…" I mumbled to myself. _Not real. Not real. Doctors say it's not real. Demons not real. People aren't made of stone. Manning's normal. He's fine. Not real._ I tried desperately to reassure myself. _Smile_. _Smiling is good, Doctor says so_. My lips slid into the happy grin they expected of me. Good patients smile. They all said so. Pulling my knees to my chest felt good. Hugging them felt good. But the remnants of the "nightmare" flashed behind my eyelids, replaying, strengthening, details mounting.

"No, no, no!"

Thunderous footfalls outside the metal door. Two male assistants and pug-faced nurse. One man held a straitjacket, the other a vial and syringe.

"Now, Mary, whatever is the matter with you?" the woman asked peevishly. Her lips pulled downward in disapproval at being woken. Could not stop the shaking. Kept rocking.

"I…"

"Use your words, Mary," she scolded, crossing her arms across her chest. "Do I have to fetch the Doctor?"

I shuddered and drew my legs tighter to my body.

"I, I had a nightmare, Madam Nurse," I said with a quaver in my voice. _I hate you_. I did not say the words aloud. That would be trouble for me later. _I hate your guts and hope Demons _are_ real. I'd let them find _you_._ I hated Madam Nurse.

"A nightmare, Mary? Are you telling the truth?" she sneered. They knew. They all knew of course. I was mad – very much so. I could _see_ things I shouldn't. It didn't matter if they happened or not. Usually they did. A new flash of color flickered behind my eyelids. I felt my face slacken for a moment.

_Madam Nurse kissing the Doctor, her skirt shamefully raised to her waist as she sits on a desk. The Doctor making grunting noises and moving against Madam Nurse. _

Giggles spilled out of my lips before I could stop them. _Naughty, naughty._

"What are you snickering at, girl? Only devilish little things smirks like that!" she demanded, striding forward. I felt the sting on my cheek before I registered her hand pulling back. The coppery taste of blood on my tongue made me bitter. _Did I dare? _

"Only working girls gallivant about with men in locked rooms in broad daylight," I giggled merrily. Her face contorted from shock to fury as another blow fell on my cheek. I couldn't stop giggling! It was madness, of course, but I was mad anyway so I couldn't get any madder. Though she struck my cheeks and beat my sides with her knobby fists I couldn't halt the breathless chuckles! It was just so wonderful to laugh at her embarrassment! And my predicament – Little Mary Alice Brandon shunted from the attic and moved to this place! Oh tricky fickle fate that the reforms did not matter here! Too many, too many ensconced in the loving embrace of the State Lunatic Asylum for them to matter!

A painfully tight grip on either arm jerked me into a half-standing, half-kneeling position as Madam Nurse regained her composure. Tweedledee and Tweedledum smirked as they followed her out of my shabby little room. I still let a chuckle burst from my lips as I recalled over and over the expression on her puggish face. _But where was Mr. Manning?_ Usually he was on the nightshift with the Tweedles and Madam Pug. _For that matter, where are the straitjacket and sedative?_ My giggles finally died as I realized that we had completely abandoned my tiny room, the drug, and the uncomfortable restraint. I began casting my eyes around, trying to orient myself. Too many doors and halls! Already six months in and no knowledge of what most of the rooms were! A headache started behind my temple as I furrowed my brow, trying to remember the configuration of the "treatment" facilities.

_A sensation of being thrown into a fire followed rapidly by shrieks, my shrieks, and harsh laughter. Threats of more if I continue to rebel against the treatment. Madam Nurse smirking down at me as I thrash and struggle against restraints that hold me under. Pain of a million needles shoved mercilessly under my skin. My toes and fingertips turning blue while my teeth chatter and nose runs._

I snapped back to awareness as Madam Pug was in the middle of another threat-filled lecture, "No! I don't want an ice bath, I'm sorry! I'll be good, please don't-!" I begged at the top of my lungs, planting my feet suddenly and kicking, trying to break free of the brutes' grips. They merely gripped my biceps tighter and lifted me higher, making it more difficult to fight. Madam Pug ignored my pleas.

"This is for your own good, Mary. You're obviously not reacting to more mild treatments so we must try something new to control your ill mind and heart," she said stoically. Behind the words, her lips turned upwards in a sneer and her eyes glinted dangerously. She unlocked a door and held it wide for the Tweedles as my heart jumped into my throat and set to pounding faster than it ever had.

"No! I wont say a word ever again, please don't make me!" I sobbed, my voice ripping through two octaves. No one paid attention. No one ever did, of course, except when they thought I was saying something mad. Then I was punished. I was forced to stand upright, the Tweedles holding my arms as Madam Pug unbuttoned my gown. I shivered and sobbed harder as I was exposed to their greedy eyes. Madam Pug folded my dress meticulously and put it on a counter, deliberately moving slowly with her back to us. The two brutes took the advantage to leer at me openly, like a piece of meat for sale hanging from the butcher's hook. But I wasn't another woman to them, just another animal to be caged and punished when necessary.

"Be quiet silly girl. We're trying to help you," said the woman with a vindictive smile. I felt another shiver run through me and my pleas intensified. The vision flashed before my eyes again and I dissolved into whimpering moans. I wouldn't get out of it this time. Repeated images were never wrong. Never. I always knew. Alice always knew.

Tweedledee began helping Madam Pug pull the huge cube from the icebox in the corner. He wrapped it in a towel and swung the mass against the floor. The crunching sound was only dimly muted and increased my struggles and sobs. Tweedledum just wrapped an arm around my middle to hold me more securely while his hands caught my wrists to stop my flailing. His friend dumped the chipped ice into the tub before repeating the process once more. Madam Pug filled the tub with cold water and I whimpered as the metal tub began to perspire in the comparatively warmer room.

Tweedledum dragged me toward the tub and I renewed my struggles, shrieking incoherently as kicked and flailed and finally sunk my teeth into his arm. He retaliated by releasing my waist and swinging a well-aimed punch at my side. I gasped from the sudden burst of pain. It distracted me long enough for the monster to tighten his grip on my arm while his companion grabbed the other. Looping an arm each between my legs to lift me, they positioned me over the tub.

"In you go, dear," simpered the Pug.

The two released their hold on my lower half and before I could begin struggling, slammed my arms to the sides of the tub and secured them to the leather shackles there. My torso arched in protest to the biting cold, my body convulsing as it underwent the shock of being thrust into an environment twenty degrees cooler. The pain multiplied as my muscles began cramping up. Belatedly, I realized that the strange, gurgling screech echoing off the cement walls belonged to me. I tugged futilely against the leather shackles and tried to find purchase against the sides of the tub with my legs, attempting to at least wrench myself half-way out, but the cold and pain had already paralyzed my toes and thighs. I could not make them respond half as well as they should. I jerked uncontrollably, my teeth gnashing together over and over. Pug woman assisted my "treatment" by taking a pail and dumping some of the ice water over my head. I shuddered violently while she smirked in satisfaction, chatting absently to the other two. They stared at me greedily.

_Five minutes to stop the burn. Fifteen for hypothermia, twenty for shock, thirty for death,_ I recalled. They had left me in for fifteen the first time, to quiet my "episode." It had been nearly a month since the last time I had a "relapse." I waited, trembling, seeing flashes now and then through the numbing cold, hoping I would die. But I couldn't. I would _see_ that, first. Unfortunate, really.

I started singing to myself brokenly, hoping maybe if I stopped thinking about how unbearably cold it was, I would stop feeling it completely.

"To the Looking-Glass world it was Alice that said

'I've a sceptre in hand, I've a crown on my head.

Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be

Come dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen and Me!'"

"What's that you little brat? What are you singing?" growled Madam. I gave her a pleasant smile. It's nice to smile. They all told me so.

"'Then fill up the glasses as quick as you can,

And sprinkle the table with buttons and bran:

Put cats in the coffee, and mice in the tea-

And welcome Queen Alice with thirty-times-three!'"

"Stop that you brat! Stop this instant Brandon!" the harpy screamed while tugging my hair. I couldn't feel it. But she knew that already. I continued smiling at her.

"'O Looking-Glass creatures,' quoth Alice, 'draw near!

'Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear:

'Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea

Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and Me!'"

She had pulled me from the tub now with the help of her goons and was proceeding to beat me about the face and shoulders. I refused to stop grinning. She _told _me to smile. The Doctor did, too! Good, sane little girls smiled, sewed, and sang. I only did what they told me I _should_ do. Before I could turn away, she swung at me with the back of her hand, her ring cutting into my cheek.

"Be silent you little beast!" she screamed. I paused, still smiling at her, shivering uncontrollably and struggling to stand while I was roughly buttoned into my dress.

"…I'm withdrawing my invitation, Madam Pug. You're far too beastly even among the looking-glass creatures to have tea with Queen Alice!" I said as sweetly as I could through my chattering teeth.

"Aargh!"

I giggled brokenly while the men grabbed me again, this time to return me to my room. As soon as the door closed, I immediately curled in on myself with my wool blanket wrapped around me. My flesh still felt burned and pricked uncomfortably, and I shivered incessantly.

I did not wonder what I had done to deserve the torture. No one needed a reason to beat, abuse, or drown someone afflicted with lunacy. I knew my "affliction" was not something that could be treated. Everything so far had pointed to that conclusion, at least. A year of being dragged between churches and hospitals had done little to cure me. The months of "treatment" in this facility had done even less for my apparently questionable sanity. Smiling, I thought back to the one improvement. Here, at least, someone wanted to talk _with_ me. That, at least, was better than being denounced as a lunatic by the woman who _should_ have been my mother, and the sister who I thought had loved me. Trembling, I lay on my side with my knees tucked to my chest and fell into a fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep.

The morning dawned too quickly. I sat slowly and marveled at my new aches and pains. Lifting my shapeless dress, I discovered an unsightly purplish bruise blooming over my ribcage. Apparently Tweedledum's fist had found its mark. The sound of a key in the door's lock caused me to drop and smooth out the gown hastily, lest I be caught indecent again.

"Good morning! How is my little fairy?" called a soothing voice. Mr. Manning's ice-white hand gripped the door, pushing it open slowly. His features were carefully set into mild amusement.

"Good morning," I said, clearing my throat after the words. I felt as if I had swallowed steel wool. _Might as well have for all the screaming you did, Alice,_ I thought wryly.

"Are you ready for your sedative, Alice?" he asked a little louder than necessary. I knew he would not give it to me if I did not want it. I shook my head and he closed the door, still speaking at the same volume. "That's it, drink it all up…" he said with a glance out the barred window in the door. I watched him from my place on the floor until he gave me a wink and a smile.

"Where were you last night, Mr. Manning?" I asked softly, nearing a whine. I tried to control the urge to use the same tone but failed miserably. "You told me… The Pug heard me. You told me you wouldn't let her 'take care of me' anymore," I whimpered, unable to keep the accusation out of my voice that time.

"I'm sorry, dear Alice. I was… unable to be here last night. I had a visitor," he said, agony showing on his face. I believed him. Mr. Manning had _never_ hurt me. He approached slowly and knelt beside me. I took the time to study his features yet again. I always did when he came to check on me. Mr. Manning was impossibly beautiful for a man. He had beautiful tawny eyes, high cheekbones, windswept chocolate-colored hair, and ever-smiling lips.

"She struck you again?" he asked a little morosely. I leaned into the cold brush of his fingertips across my scabbed cheek.

"I only did what they told me. Doctor and Madam Pug both say good little girls smile, sew, and sing. I was singing," I chirruped, grinning impishly. Mr. Manning gave me a glare.

"You shouldn't provoke her, you know. One of these days she's going to break and do something awful. Since the soldiers have begun returning they've been even more understaffed. At this rate, you'll have yourself a very angry Madam Nurse and experimental therapy waiting for you," Mr. Manning said with a frown. His fingertips slid from my cheek to my throat and seemed to cradle the slope of my neck for a moment. I tried to straighten and winced.

"Don't bother, I'm fine," I answered before he could ask.

"Shall we skip the usual argument and have you tell us the outcome?" Mr. Manning growled in annoyance.

"You win, but you should change your mind to argue with me because I'm in pain," I tried to persuade him.

"You know that look has never worked in this situation, Alice," sighed Mr. Manning. With a grace and ease unthinkable for most, Mr. Manning scooped me against his chest and stood to sit me on the bed. Sitting beside me, he took the hem of my dress in his hands. I obediently raised my arms above my head for him to pull it off. The strangled hiss that slid through his teeth and his black expression made me cringe as I crossed my arms over my breasts.

"The _Pug_ did _this_?" Mr. Manning ground out in incredulity and anger, finally looking away from the blackened skin. I shook my head, still maintaining a placid smile on my face.

"I bit Tweedledum."

"Where was Tweedledee that you got the chance to bite Tweedledum?" Mr. Manning grumbled.

"Oh, he was crushing ice."

"You got yourself an ice bath?"

"I didn't _mean_ to," I assured him. "I just commented on Madam Pug's practice of fornicating with Doctor."

Mr. Manning was not amused. Remembering Madam Pug's expression, though, I could not help but smile in response to his glare. With a sigh, he finally turned his attention to the bruise. I blushed while he ran his fingertips carefully over my abused ribs. He prodded very gently, but I still gasped in pain when he poked the center of the splotchy stain.

"Bruised bones, certainly. No breaks as far as I can tell. Since you have not had any difficulty breathing since I arrived beyond the norm I would say you should be fine in a couple of weeks. Shall I wrap it up for you?"

I nodded and held my arms up a bit while still hiding as much of my barely blooming bosom as I could. It was a miracle _anything_ grew there under the circumstances. I watched quietly while Mr. Manning circled my torso with a white bandage.

"You should rest for the remainder of the day," he said when he had finished and moved to gently tug my dress back over my head.

"Could you stay a while?" I nearly pleaded, clutching his cold hand in my much smaller one. It was such a comfort to have someone to talk to. Mr. Manning _may_ still think me mad, but he did not treat me as such. He even encouraged me a little once in a while. And never doubted it when I told him what would happen in the near future.

"Why so clingy today, my fairy princess?" he asked after I had crawled into my usual position: across his lap with my head against his shoulder.

"My… nightmare… You were in it," I said hesitantly.

"Oh?"

"If you meet a Blonde Demon with scarlet eyes, don't fight him. You'll lose," I whispered. Aside from sitting absolutely still, Mr. Manning did not react. I looked up into his face, hoping he would heed the warning, but was confused with what I found. Instead of fear or annoyance or trepidation, I found admiration and gratefulness.

"You care about my wellbeing, Alice?" he asked in a voice so sweet that my heart ached. Mr. Manning's hand cradled my cheek as I repositioned myself, straddling his lap in a most unladylike manner.

"You're my only friend, Mr. Manning," I assured him, gazing into his golden eyes in a silent plea. "Don't fight the Blonde Demon."

"What makes you think I'm any less devilish, Alice?" I shivered as a new intensity stole over my only companion's features. His other hand joined the other to hold me still, my face tilted up to his.

"You are kind and compassionate, Mr. Manning. How could you be evil?"

"I am also a demon, Alice. You haven't the slightest idea what I could do… What I _want_ to do, my princess," he said in a low growl. The sound made another shiver run through my adolescent body.

"I'm a woman," I said softly. "You're a man… I'm sure… I'm sure I know what you _want_ but that you also _won't_ –"

I made a sound of protest as he crushed his lips to mine. I tried to push him away but failed, quickly becoming panicked as Mr. Manning's hard, cold hands held me prisoner while his lips assaulted mine. I stilled and finally, he stopped and looked down at me coolly.

"Let that serve as a reminder, Alice. You cannot trust anyone here. My self-control is not what you seem to think it is. If it were anyone else, Alice, I would have already…" he trailed off, his hand clenched in the fabric of my dress at my thigh. He pushed me out of his lap, disgust written on his face.

"…You would not hurt me," I whispered as soon as my heart had slowed and my gasps had quelled. "You're a man of honor. Besides, I would _see_," I said as assuredly as I could manage.

"Your visions are no more than madness-induced dreams, princess," Mr. Manning spat almost cruelly as he leaned against the wall, his face blank of any emotion. "You are just another doomed lunatic in this asylum. They're just dreams."

"Please stay a little longer," I asked quietly. He seemed to debate it and finally sat beside me on the bed.

"I get a week of vacation time coming up. Don't be worried if I'm not around for a little while. I need it… Being here can make a sane person nuts."

"We would know that better than most, wouldn't we, Mr. Manning?" I said lightly. Part of me hoped he believed me. How I wished I could ask him outright! I had my bad days, like any patient, but most of the time I was lucid. From seeing my visions come to fruition, I knew that I couldn't be _all_ mad.

"I haven't an idea what you're talking about, Alice," grumped the handsome orderly. The stiffness of his posture betrayed the truth and I giggled at the flavor of an unwitting confession in the air.

"Mr. Manning, why are people afraid of the dark?" I asked suddenly, surprising him into an honest answer.

"…Perhaps rather than the dark, they fear the unknown."

"I don't think so," I replied happily to the surprise of my friend. "It's because they know what dark _is_."

"And what is that, Alice?" asked Mr. Manning, his curiosity apparently piqued by my new game.

"Everything. And anything! The things they can't explain, but still _are_. The bad things, the things that frighten them altogether. The things they can't see and the things that whisper naughty suggestions in their heads," I said, hoping he would understand. Apparently he did and quickly shut down the discussion.

"If you're trying to play off your affliction as the natural course of things, you won't find sympathy outside this room, Alice."

"I don't care about anyone else. I want _you_ to consider the possibility that I'm not _abnormal_."

"As intelligent as you are, Alice, you're too blind to see that you're anything but. You _must_ try to overcome your illness before you get yourself –"

"Who are you going to change before you die, Mr. Manning?" I inturrupted, fixing him with my steady gaze. His lecture stymied, Mr. Manning's lips pursed before he beat a hasty retreat, calling a promise to check on me again later. I curled up on my bed and tried not to cry as despair swaddled me once more. Eventually, I retreated into Wonderland again. Lewis Carroll's world was far better than mine on any day.

"Brandon."

_This food gets more disgusting every time they serve it_, I thought with a sigh, poking at my mushroom soup apathetically. The grayish mush dropped from my spoon and into the bowl with a _'plop'_ while I watched with a wrinkled nose.

"Brandon!"

My stomach grumbled and with a resigned grimace I reluctantly ate a mouthful of the stuff. _Ew_.

"Mary Alice Brandon!"

I jerked upright, staring with wide eyes at the cafeteria director, Nurse Geshing.

"Yes, Nurse?" I said as sweetly as I could.

"The Doctor would like to see you, Brandon," the stern woman said as an orderly took my arm. I obediently followed them into the Doctor's office, staring at my feet. The doctor sat behind his mahogany desk, rifling papers, his old-fashioned monocle in place as he examined a seemingly important form.

"Doctor, Brandon's here to see you," Nurse Geshing said before shutting the door behind me. She did not come in with me.

While the Doctor played too-busy-to-look-at-you-or-offer-a-seat I looked around the office, wondering why the man had such finery in a loony bin. Several beautiful cabinets and shelves held books and finery. A Tiffany lamp stood by an overstuffed armchair, and a similar desk lamp threw a soft glow on the corner of the mahogany prop. Most of the other female patients and staff were well aware that he rarely did paperwork there. And Madam Pug was not the only one privy to that information, either.

"Well, Miss Brandon. Do take a seat," said the Doctor finally, raising his gaze to me, looking over the monocle. "I wanted to discuss your apparent relapse last night. I've been told that Head Nurse Casey gave you emergency treatment for the episode. Is that correct?"

Only careful practice in the first few months of my stay allowed me to keep my composure. I carefully set my lips into a grateful, if somewhat dreamy smile, relaxing as I settled into the more comfortable looking of the two wooden chairs in front of his desk.

"Yes, that's right. Madam Nurse gave me a nice relaxing bath to chase away the baddies," I explained sweetly. _I do hope you have the pleasure of having a similar experience someday. The icy level of hell would be perfect for you, doctor_, I thought, smiling a little wider.

"Very good. It's fortunate she caught an early episode of your relapse, dear Miss Brandon. I've got a bit of news. It seems that your parents have officially disowned you. You are now a ward of the state. Do you know what that means, Miss Brandon?" sneered the Doctor. I tried not to allow myself to feel the fear that had taken hold in the back of my mind. _No one who cared would know to check on me, now_.

"Miss Brandon, that means that you are now a ward of the state, and by extension, this institution. Your parents actually held your funeral upon your admittance, but the paperwork for your disowning just recently went through on your eighteenth birthday. So! All that means is we are now authorized by the state to try innovative new treatments in an attempt to get you out of here and back into society posthaste," the Doctor continued with the same smirk. My insides began to squirm as his predatory gaze began traveling from my face to my waist.

"Now, dear girl, would you please stand?" I stood slowly, biting back protests and complaints. "I would like to do a preliminary exam before we move you to your new quarters. Since you're going to be one of our experimental treatment patients, you get a new room all to yourself. We're expecting an influx of veterans and elderly who all need immediate care of most of the orderlies and nurses, so you'll be under my personal treatment from now on while medications will continue being delivered by an orderly or nurse at my prerogative."

As the doctor spoke, he moved around the desk and led the way out the side door, into his first exam room. He directed me to the table and I sat there obediently, carefully thinking about anything but what he was about to do. I found myself in Wonderland again, talking pleasantly with the Mad Hatter and stubbornly ignoring the flashes of images in my mind's eye. My physical eyes stared blankly into space. Somewhere I was aware that the Doctor had washed his hands and had meticulously unbuttoned my gown.

"Spread your legs," he said gruffly. I felt my body obey as I tried to accept another half-cup of tea from the Hatter. "What's all this? You need to be shaven again. You'll get lice if you aren't," the Doctor said in a disapproving tone. He proceeded to shave away the womanly growth with a straight razor, only pausing to wipe the blade off on a towel. I watched from outside of it all, hoping that whatever experimental treatment the hospital had planned would kill me quickly. Maybe they would test stronger sedatives on me. That would be lovely.

After the Doctor deemed me appropriately bare, he wiped off the excess lather and began examining me under a bright light. He had me lay back on the examination table while he poked and probed and prodded with his fingers, making me twitch and fight the urge to vomit. I winced when he poked his finger _inside_. I looked at the wall, unable to maintain Carroll's fantasy world as he violated my most private of places. He stopped suddenly and brought his hand down hard on my cheek.

"Look at me!" he demanded, his voice shaking with rage. Trembling, my cheek stinging and my lip bleeding again, I looked up at my tormentor while he continued exploring my sex with his fingers. Dissatisfied with my twitches and blank stare, he tore the front of my gown open and began mauling my small breasts with a violent fervor, squeezing and pinching, leaving bruises. Still, I refused to make a sound, refused to follow his movements with my eyes. I stared at his forehead with cold indifference. Finally, he rained a series of blows down on my chest and sides, striking my injured ribs. I gasped in pain and curled in on myself. Finally he stopped.

"So it takes that to get a rise out of you, does it, little Mary?" sneered the Doctor, pulling me up. He turned his head to the door as he repositioned me, strapping my wrists to the padded table. "Nurse! It's past time we begin experiments with the new Electroshock generator!"

To my horror, Madam Pug strolled in with her face set into an evil grin, flanked by her usual lackeys. They bustled around, suddenly urgent as the Doctor barked out orders. Nurse Geshing came in after the machine was plugged in and humming. She gently coerced my lips open and slid a cylinder of rubber between my teeth as a strap belted my head to the table. I began struggling, thrashing wildly as I began feeling the pain through the flashes of premonition before my nerves had actually felt it. The doctor passed clipboards to all those present except for Madam Pug, who insisted on operating the controls. The Doctor strapped two pads to my chest and hooked the electrical clips to the little metal protrusions in their centers. I tried to knock them off, trembling uncontrollably, tears running over my cheeks, my cries gagged by the rubber bit.

"Charge to fifteen percent, Nurse."

An instant of background buzzing and suddenly I felt every nerve ending on my body come to life as if touched to a hot coal, all at once. A strangle gurgled sound came from deep my throat as my torso arched off the table and my toes and hands curled. My muscles tensed and convulsed uncontrollably, locking and unlocking as I thrashed about. Before long, the sound cut off and only buzzing hum of the machine remained.

"That's good, Nurse. Notes?" The Doctor looked over two clipboards, nodded approvingly, and glanced down at me. I had stopped convulsing but was struggling to breathe evenly around the bit.

"Charge to twenty percent, Nurse Casey."

The increase in voltage ripped through me similarly, except that the convulsions lasted a minute or two after the current was shut off. I felt saliva running from the corner of my mouth to the tabletop. My eyes leaked more tears and my breath came in short little gasps.

"Thirty percent, Head Nurse."

_No more! No more! I'm not mad! I'm not a bad girl! Mother, Father, unbury me! _But they didn't understand! How could they? They couldn't _see!_ I wasn't mad! I wasn't! The dark was frightening so they all lied about what they sensed there to preserve their happy, sunny world. _They_ were happy to live in anonymity while the stupid doctors and scientists and God-fearing people all denied their existence. I could _see_ because there was more. I knew it to be true. Mr. Manning knew it, but denied it because they would think _him_ mad, too!

But it didn't matter! It didn't matter! As soon as the lights disappeared, they were just like me! _Mad_, seeing things they shouldn't. Doing things they shouldn't. Demons with scarlet eyes and angels with gold ones and humans with all different colors but the same color soul – All black, deepest black of night! Queen Alice and all the mad little people come to tea! Gathered at the precipice of sanity and reality and fear and pain and evil!

I giggled and sobbed and screamed in equal amounts as Madam Pug charged the electroshock generator to fifty percent.

. . . . . . .

A/N: So there you have chapter one. I warned you about the graphic and violent nature this is going to take on. Please review. I may not require them to update in the end, but they _do_ help me update more regularly and certainly inspire loyalty in me. Please do review, especially if you favorite. That warm fuzzy jumpy anticipation you get in your tummy when you realize your favorite story or book has been updated or has released a sequel is the equivalent of the feeling I get when I see the little number counter on my reviews go up!

Love,

-Forensica X


	2. Promise

A/N: As no one has voted in the poll and it's been nearly a week, I've decided that I'll just go ahead and post as I'm rather excited about this fic.

Disclaimer: I never have and never will own anything mentioned in SM's Twilight. I am but a poor student. She is a God. All things referring to "Wonderland" is borrowed from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll. I make no profit. Enjoy.

. . . . . . . . .

Chapter Two: Promise

. . . . . . . . .

"Alice?" called a voice beyond the barred window in the door. How lovely! Mr. Manning come to visit! I hopped up from my cot and happily ran to the door, standing on tiptoe to see out.

"Mr. Manning! Do come in! I was just starting my tea party!"

"As you wish, Queen Alice," came the relieved voice of my beloved Mr. Manning.

"I was wondering when you would come to see me again. It's been ages!"

"It has only been the usual week, Alice." He said with a little humor as he unlocked the door and came in, throwing a covert glance over his shoulder. I couldn't help to giggle.

"Oh, really? I cannot recall," I replied honestly as I executed a pirouette and spun into the dim sunlight slanting through the high, barred window on the south wall.

"Alice-!" Mr. Manning gasped. The strangled sound of his voice made me pause at the side of my bed.

"Whatever is the matter, Mr. Manning?"

"… You're… Alice, what happened over the last week?"

"I don't know, really. But Doctor Hubert gave me some new treatment and I'm feeling much better, now. I really do!"

"Alice, you're not even dressed, there are burn marks on your chest, and you've bruises around your wrists, ankles, thighs, and arms!"

I frowned at his revelation and took a few moments to take a visual inventory of the marks that had previously gone unnoticed. Brows shooting into my fringe, I giggled.

"Look, Mr. Manning, I'm striped like Cheshire Cat!" I exclaimed only to be answered by agonized silence as Mr. Manning clenched and unclenched his hands. I pursed my lips but finally returned to my tea party after realizing that he was currently incapable of speaking to me.

'_Aren't you concerned, Queen Alice?' asked Hatter._

'_Not even a little bit,' I answered while reclaiming my seat at the throne, smiling happily. 'Why should I be upset over something that doesn't hurt me?'_

'_But isn't it usually a bad thing for a lady, let alone a queen to be caught without her bloomers on?' giggled Hatter. 'Unless of course it's your unbirthday. Everyone knows you can do as you like on your unbirthday!'_

'_Why, I don't know if it is my unbirthday,' I frowned at that. How strange. I should know when my own unbirthday was, and when it wasn't. 'I'm not even sure of my birthday. For all I know, any day could be my birthday _or_ my unbirthday!'_

'_Oh, how sad, Queen Alice!' cried the March Hare._

'_How sad, how sad indeed, Queen Alice!' bemoaned Hatter. How darling they were in their mismatched stockings and hats and coats. I frowned down at my semi-nude body and fought the urge to blush._

'_If it _were_ my unbirthday, I should like to have a lovely gown to go with my throne. And a crown…'_

"Alice?"

"Hmm?" I frowned, pulled partially from my tea party. Hatter and the Hare swam before my vision and I frowned as they disappeared, leaving only the sparse bed pallet, the barred window, and the steel door.

"Alice, do you know what he gave you?"

"I read something that started with 'dexe-' and they injected it into my arm."

"Dexedrine?" asked Mr. Manning with a new look of anger on his face.

"I think that could be right," I said with a sigh, disliking my company for the first time in a while. It was cold and I wanted to continue my outdoor tea.

"Alice, do you know when you ate last?" he asked but continued before I could answer. "-But of course you don't, you don't know half of what happened the last week, and from the state of your dress I know you haven't been out of this room! That's the same stain that was there last weekend. What I wouldn't give to get you out of here…" Mr. Manning grumbled rapidly, speaking more to himself than me, I suspected. I latched onto the last bit of his rant, a little hope making me feel giddy.

"_Could_ you get me out of here, Mr. Manning? Maybe not forever, but for a little while? I really will go mad if I have to stay much longer," I joked, knowing full well I _was_ mostly mad, even if I had not been when I first arrived at the State Lunatic Hospital. I tried to smile as I tugged lightly on Mr. Manning's cold, hard fingers.

"Alice, please don't ask me that. I just might…" he trailed off, his eyes searching the distance for a moment. I contented myself in watching his lovely face for a few moments but just as spontaneously as his comment had started, he was kneeling before me and holding my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"My lovely Alice, you haven't the slightest idea how… how it _tortures_ me to see you confined, beaten, abused, _molested-!"_ he began, spitting the last word out like a foul taste, "I swear to you Alice that I'll free you, one way or another. But for now… For now, we have to wait. I can't draw attention to my attachment to you or that bastard _Doctor-_" he said it like a curse, "may change your accommodations or worse. I _will_ take you away from here someday, Alice. I promise – and then nothing will ever harm you again."

I could not help but smile at Mr. Manning's declaration and immediately slid onto his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. His sudden stiffening did not go unnoticed, but I was pleased that he finally relaxed and wrapped his arms around me after a few moments.

"I trust you, Mr. Manning."

"I wish you would call me Carl, then."

"That's not polite, though. I'm neither your wife nor a relation…"

"You're _everything_, Alice," he whispered so tenderly that I could not control the warmth that spread to my cheeks. He sighed softly and nuzzled my hair and I giggled.

"Carl, then, could you please bring me something to wear? It's getting a little cold now that the sun's on its way down."

"Of course, my princess. But you have to promise you'll eat whatever food I bring, as well. Alright?"

"I'm not hungry," I said a little petulantly. Carl laughed and kissed my cheek. How I loved his constant affection.

"That's because of the drug he gave you. It usually is not used in cases like yours, but of course, he isn't being paid to treat your 'condition' anymore."

"I thought I was a ward of the state?" I asked uncertainly.

"Your parents disowned you, but the state doesn't sponsor women of no means. Doctor Hubert petitioned the state to keep you as a test subject in his own research and the state administrative board agreed so long as the Doctor continued to fund it himself," Mr. Manning explained with no small amount of anger in his velvety voice.

"Oh." That was the extent of my capabilities at that moment.

"That drug has side effects of loss of appetite, extended alertness, insomnia, and amnesia just to name a few. You look like you haven't eaten since I last saw you, my poor princess," Carl lamented as he dragged his fingertips over my side lightly. I felt his fingers slide over the shape of my ribs and shivered. His lips mouthed numbers and I pouted a little as he counted all twelve on my left side.

"I'll eat if you bring me something," I said in a light reminder. He smiled apologetically before lifting me onto the bed and disappearing through the door.

Upon returning, Mr. Manning carefully gave me a sponge bath and dressed me before sitting down to join me for dinner. We spoke in comfortable companionship and I made sure to eat at least half of everything he brought. The only sour note played when Carl told me about what had apparently happened to me over the last week.

"I was electrocuted?"

"Rather crudely, at that. There have been rumors of using 'Electrotherapy' as a treatment to psychopaths and schizophrenics, but only in Europe. The fact that he used a legitimate treatment at all surprises me," Carl scoffed, pausing in his movements. Until then he had been stroking my shorn hair.

"…That's not all. I heard from the Head Nurse – and I suspected as much from your previous state of dress – but he _touched_ you as well and was dissatisfied by your response, thus his choice to test his Electroshock generator on you."

"Can't we talk about anything else, Carl?" I asked as sweetly as I could while keeping tears from my eyes.

"Of course, my princess," Carl sighed with a small smile.

After I finished eating, I sat on the bed with my back braced against the wall and Mr. Manning lied down with his head on my lap. I took the opportunity to play with his pretty brown hair. Mr. Manning closed his eyes and I slid my fingertips over his soft lavender lids and dark eyelashes. Before I could stop it, flashes of his severed head flying through the air made me shudder. I recalled that I had _seen_ this before and that the new image was a memory. I tried to quell the fear that made my heart race but newer details caused my breath to stop.

_Blackness, and a dull stinging sensation._

_Black eyes framed in Mr. Manning's equally dark lashes._

_A flash of razor-sharp teeth between beautiful lips._

"Alice?" called Carl's voice worriedly.

_Laughter, Carl running at full tilt through abandoned passages._

_Blood staining a pristine white shirt._

_Empty, golden eyes disappearing behind a flash of flames._

"Alice, come back to me, princess," whispered the exquisitely beautiful man in my lap. He stroked my cheek with his fingertips and I broke out of the trance, staring down at him worriedly.

"You're going to die, Carl," I said mournfully.

"I couldn't do that. How could I smuggle you out of Mississippi's most secure asylum as a corpse?" he responded with a grin. I frowned and chose not to answer, letting my mind wander to other things.

"Do you know when my birthday is, Carl?" I asked suddenly, remembering my conversation with Hatter and March Hare. I knew I was eighteen, or nearly eighteen, I thought.

"Your file says 13 January1901," Carl said quietly.

"And what's today?"

" 29 October 1918."

"So I shall be eighteen in two and a half months." I said after a moment before glancing down at my slender body with a frown. Carl's eyes followed my critical gaze and I quickly decided to distract his attention elsewhere. I despised how girlish I appeared. "Should I feel a little unnerved that you know my birthday off the top of your head?" I teased.

"No. It only shows how much I care for you… I want to know things about you. I wish I had known you before you came here. Perhaps there would be more for me to know…"

"What do you want to know?" I smiled at Mr. Manning's frown.

"I thought…"

"Just because I can't recall ever celebrating my birthday does not mean that I don't remember _anything_," I said with a smile. Carl's answering smile was radiant. To think that I had spent the last six months at a marriageable age locked up with this Adonis to no avail.

"I know you enjoy reading. You've read all of Lewis Carroll's novels. What else do you like to read?" he asked in a rush. I took a moment to answer, looking off into space rather than meeting his curious eyes.

"…When I started _seeing_ things I read a lot of religious texts, and ended up dismissing all of it and moving into some of Freud's publications. I went to the library in Biloxi and found everything I could about Schizophrenia… It was the only ailment I'd heard of that caused one to see and hear things they shouldn't. But when I wasn't doing that I was reading Shakespearian plays and acting them out with my sister."

"You have a sister?"

"Cynthia. She's a darling girl. Much prettier than I am, and probably going to be taller, too," I sighed.

"You're beautiful as you are, Alice," he said, quickly followed by, "Did you have any beaus after you turned fifteen?"

"One… I don't remember his name, but I remember his face. He was frightened that I seemed to answer his questions before he asked them. I wasn't used to being around people. My father kept my sister and I out of the public eye except for church, holidays, Mardi Gras and the schooner races. Once in a while, Mother took Cynthia and I to the general store with her. I think that's where he and I met. It was a week after that he asked permission to court me, and my father happily agreed. A few days later, he came to dinner and never came back again."

"Were your parents disappointed?"

"Father and mother drilled into me that women are to remain quiet until spoken to. I tried to explain that he _did_ speak to me, and of course, they were extremely upset over my 'insubordination' so they told me that any further suitors would not be allowed until I learned to control myself," I said bitterly.

"I take it this was before you noticed your abilities?"

"Yes. I attributed it to being observant. It wasn't until later that I started seeing more clearly."

"Why do you think you started _seeing_?" murmured my dark-haired angel. His expression was pensive. Gone was the usual mask of longing or pain.

"I don't know… Sometimes I think I dreamed things, because I would wake up and feel as if I were experiencing Déjà Vu throughout the days. It wasn't until later that I noticed that I could predict what people would say, or do when I was awake. It escalated until shortly after my sixteenth birthday. Sometimes, I saw happy things; however most of the time it was awful. And still, the feeling of Déjà Vu remained. I kept it to myself and wrote in a diary rather than confide in either my parents or Cynthia. I had researched and knew that the only conclusion was madness." My voice wavered and I paused. Carl did not press me to continue until I had my emotions strictly under control again and a placid smile back in place.

"What changed? How did they discover your secret?" Car asked in a voice so soft that I nearly missed the question.

"They suspected when I predicted my aunt falling to a strange illness. I had nightmares of other victims, too, though I still do not know where. There were far more than in Biloxi. I also saw scenes of war, and finally I had a vision I could not keep to myself. I woke one night and told my mother my cousin Justin was dying in Germany. I woke like that several nights in a row and eventually she demanded that father take me away, to 'get better.' So he began taking me to religious specialists, to doctors, and finally to a Doctor of the psychological practice. He recommended the Asylum in Jackson," I finished, trying to keep any inflection from my voice. It would hurt too much to admit my pain.

"So here you are."

"So here I am," I affirmed. The silence between us was deep but not uncomfortable. We both took the time to think about everything I had revealed.

"…Do you wish you had found someone to marry?" Carl finally asked. I thought about the prospect of marrying while staring at the pale sliver of moonlight shining through the barred window.

"I never really felt anything towards men. The most profound emotions I can remember towards the opposite gender have been within these walls," I whispered. Carl stiffened and caught my chin in his hand again, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"How do you mean?"

"Hate, anger, thankfulness, affection… Some of the strongest emotions, wouldn't you say? And all of them have been exclusively directed at males within the asylum." Carl contemplated my revelation for a moment, still gazing into my eyes steadily.

"And for whom have you felt affection, Alice?"

"…I should think the answer to that question would be obvious, even to mad little Mary Alice," I answered so quietly I wondered if Carl could hear.

"You and I both know you're not mad, Alice," he whispered, still holding me still. Slowly, as if he were afraid to startle me, Carl sat up and leaned his face closer. My eyes fluttered shut as his lips met mine in a chaste kiss. The coolness and hardness of his lips did not frighten me as I thought they would. Instead, I felt heat creeping up my spine from a place I could not name. He carefully held me and kissed me again, this time his lips parted just slightly. I responded in the like and shivered when he groaned softly, the sound stirring something inside me that had previously been undiscovered. I found myself severely disappointed when Carl pulled away.

"Alice, I must go for a while again. I'm going to try to arrange an outing and I need you to promise to stay out of trouble until I come back. Can you do that?"

"What about the Dexedrine?"

"I imagine that Doctor Hubert won't use it on you again for a while. He probably gave it to you continuously this week so that you would not recall his actions against you, just in case someone from the state decides to tour the Asylum. You still don't remember it for yourself, do you?"

"Not particularly."

"Then there you go. He's a beast but I don't think he'll bother you for a while. He definitely didn't think to remember anything else concerning your care. He may even have found someone else to torment for a while."

"I'm afraid," I whispered, flashes of bloody gore flashing through my mind's eye again.

Despite his reassurances, I knew the doctor would not give up on his new toy. I was here because he was funding his pleasure, and I would only be released once he was finished exacting whatever use he saw fit of me. He cared not for getting caught – who would believe Mad Mary Alice Brandon? Disowned by her parents and dead to the world?

"I shall return as soon as I can, Alice. Remember my promise."

But I could not deny the nightmares that plagued me now that the drugs had worn off after a full day of not seeing one syringe. Flashes of things that had nothing to do with my dark-haired angel and everything to do with the twisted Doctor made me tremble.

"May I have another promise?" I begged in a high-pitched squeak as a particularly disturbing nightmare dance behind my eyes. Through the vision, Carl frowned and finally nodded upon seeing the pain clearly written across my features.

"Anything, Alice."

"Please let me forget if he hurts me again."

"If that is your wish, Alice. But someday soon you won't have to forget. I'll fill your days with sunshine and happiness," whispered the man who wanted to save me before disappearing through the door.

In the darkness and loneliness that engulfed my tiny prison, I whispered to the dark.

"If only you could, dear Mr. Manning."

. . . . . . .

A/N: Please do review, especially if you favorite. That warm fuzzy jumpy anticipation you get in your tummy when you realize your favorite story or book has been updated or has released a sequel is the equivalent of the feeling I get when I see the little number counter on my reviews go up! It's depressing to see that at least 15,000 have read my other work at least a little and only 67 people have seen fit to review it. I don't even know if I'm doing something right or wrong that so few leave me remarks. Anyway. As always, happy reading!

Love,

-Forensica X


	3. Ch Three Part One: Numb

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry it took so long to update. I know this story isn't very popular; however, I feel irresponsible for neglecting this so much. On another note, it took quite a while (many writes and re-writes) to figure out where exactly I wanted to go with this. Part one is incredibly short. Part two is told from the perspective of our favorite orderly.

**A warning to the reader:** This chapter-in-two-parts is incredibly horrible in a lot of different ways. Sexual content, violence, gore, etc… Still, I'm keeping with historical references, human nature, and a pinch of artistic license, so please try not to flame without considerable contemplation of how exactly I have offended you. You've been fairly warned.

Disclaimer: I never have and never will own anything mentioned in SM's Twilight. I am but a poor student. She is a God. All things referring to "Wonderland" is borrowed from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll. I make no profit. Enjoy.

. . . . . . . . .

Chapter Three – Part One: Numb

. . . . . . . . .

I made it several days without incident. I quietly went about my business, playing Mad Mary Alice and her looking-glass creatures to all of the orderlies came to give me sedatives before bed. Meals were spent in self-contained solitude at the end of my usual table in the cafeteria. Undisturbed by anyone, the striped bruises and burn marks faded to yellowish splotches on m ivory skin. I had begun to believe that Carl had, perhaps, known something that I did not when I saw the brief flickers of scarlet in my day visions.

Unfortunately, my beautiful orderly had been wrong, as I knew he would be.

Doctor Hubert had things planned for his pet schizophrenic. The visions began long before I was summoned, and it was under sedatives that I was finally led from my room to the cafeteria for lunch on Wednesday. I sat, ignoring my tray of food while waiting for my name to be called.

_The light of the operating room shines down far too brightly. The dizziness from the barbiturate they use as anesthetic fails to keep me from noticing the blurry outlines of scalpel and forceps resting beside the operating table. The Doctor leers down at me as I am stripped in my half conscious state and belted to the table with leather restraints. More of the drug is injected into me. My mind feels heavy, and for once I do not feel the urge to fight. The Doctor smiles as he drags the scalpel over my abdomen. I feel only pressure, a slight tickle, and warmth while blood spurts onto the Doctor's operating costume. _

The premonition that had only been vague in the previous days was forcefully overridden by the now. The moment I heard Madam Pug call I leapt to my feet, running for the exit as fast as I could while a few other patients shouted either their encouragement or incoherent annoyance at the disturbance. _You knew better, Alice,_ the nagging voice in my head whispered. I dissolved into sobs and physical protest as two orderlies dragged me away from the cafeteria and toward the operating room and the waiting Doctor. As panic began to envelop me in its fog, the vision picked up with brutal intensity. The sight of the bright operating light and the table, straps dangling on either side, dissolved behind the vision.

"_Hopefully this successfully cures our dear little Mary. I've heard of miraculous results in New York and from Germany before the war," says Head Nurse Pug with a sneer. My warped sight makes the grin overlarge, feral. "To think that we have never thought to use the procedure on our own patients! It's common sense really. Removing the infected organs and leaving the healthy body behind." The sound of vindictive hate in her voice makes me want to puke. _

"_Leave the ovaries and fallopian tubes alone. Removing her infected uterus should be sufficient to begin with. We'll leave the cervix be, for now."_

Horror flooded my brain and I let unconsciousness claim me before they could even place me on the dreaded table. The prick of a needle in my arm woke me later, but thankfully my mind under the influence of whatever opiate they had given me kept me from reacting to the gore or the much-dulled flashes of the next few hours behind my eyelids. It was with an apathetic eye and a slow mind that I watched the Doctor slide the scalpel expertly over my supple flesh. The sound of blood dripping to the table and floor, the scent of the coppery substance, and the pressure and tickle sensation barely affected me beyond my contemplation of the strange sight of my lower body opened up for the room to examine.

"There we go," said Doctor Hubert before dropping a bloody, oblong mass of flesh into waiting pan. He proceeded to stitch up what was left of the things that defined me as a woman and cauterized all the bleeding parts before injecting me with what I guessed to be an antibiotic. He stitched my abdomen closed and cleaned the wound off, then waited while I was bandaged and the nurses dressed me.

Finally away from the operating table and lying sleepily in my own bed, strapped in place, I took the time to contemplate what had just happened. Strange. Under the influence of the barbiturate, I was aware but did not care in the least. I felt calm, empty. My thoughts came slower and I barely wanted to move again, but there was no pain and no anticipation of any more. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that the Doctor had performed the surgery for his own benefit and failed to push the possibilities out of my mind. _Then again,_ I reminded myself, _If there ever was a time to think about unpleasant things, it is now. _The implications of no longer having a womb played through my mind. The only benefit was that I would no longer be able to bear children. The only reason that would matter would be if the Doctor intended to _use_ me as soon as doing so would not kill me. If he intended to _use_ my body and discard me he would not have performed such a procedure. He would simply have done so and removed the evidence permanently.

I was aware that a woman's development was directly linked to the behavior of those parts, and wondered briefly if I would ever look like my mother: full, voluptuous, visually enticing. Considering my stature and the irregularity of my feminine woes, I seriously doubted that even _with_ all my feminine pieces in place that I would ever enjoy the type of beauty that was generally appreciated. Of course, being in a lunatic asylum seriously lessened the likelihood of anyone finding me a suitable wife, let alone partner.

My slower, numbed mind formed the conclusion I had been seeing in vague images for the past month. My body would be used for the Doctor's pleasure for an extended timeframe. Eventually, I really _would _be mad and only a husk of Mary Alice Brandon would remain. It was easy to give up the hope that had filled me for the briefest of moments in Carl Manning's arms. It was simple to let the Doctor win. What was the point in fighting anymore when no one would want me? Who could love a woman who was only half so? And who would protect such a creature?

It was at the end of these musings that the drug began to lose its potency and the aching pain began to burn through my abdomen. Whimpering, I forced myself to take shelter in Wonderland, and allowed Alice's adventures to block out the humiliation and pain. No one would miss me, after all.

I lost track of how long I wandered through Wonderland, but too quickly the forests and palace disappeared and I was left with nothing but darkness. Equally fascinated and frightened of the change, I sat alone in the dark and watched a blurry future, of which I wanted no part. I forced myself to look past images that contained people wearing lab coats and focused on those that took place somewhere foreign from what I had seen with my physical body. The images played as if on the silver screen.

_A man-of-war sinking. Lines of men with dark hair and beards crumpling almost comically while blood sprays mistily in the air. Babe Ruth taking pictures with the overjoyed Yankees. Tornadoes throwing trees, cars, and various debris and people through the air. Radio reports of two hundred nineteen killed in the storm. Fireworks imitating the blood spurts. Random flashes of color and light. A creeping burn. A man flailing his fist and screaming behind a handlebar mustache and a swastika. The newspaper proclaiming Black Tuesday. Hundreds of people lining up at the doors of a bank. More lining up before a church to receive a bit of bread and soup. A family gathered around a radio, sitting on broken buckets and things in a camp. Dirty little children running about. Guns and tanks and aeroplanes flashing. A beautiful face scarred by a million crescents, smiling down at me hopefully. Bronze locks blowing in a breeze. Honey gold hair and caramel mixing into one shining mass. A blonde with an enviable figure._

Still watching the faces and events that I neither recognized nor cared about, I wondered absently when I would see my death. How much longer did I have to wait until I could know a little peace? Though I felt despair, it gladdened me a little that no one could see my tears. Not anymore.

Mary Alice Brandon had been dead and buried since April 1918, after all.

. . .

End Part One.

. . .

. . . . . . .

A/N: A reminder: I'm trying to remain as historically accurate as possible as well as give Alice a reason to not remember. People aren't all nice, and if she were kept in an institution even after her parents officially declared her dead, then someone must have had an interest in her that she remained in a state institution. Do review! If you hate it, let me know why. If you like it, do let me know. If you think it's so-so, let me know how to improve! Any feedback is manna from heaven for my motivation. I hope everyone had a happy holiday!

Love,

-Forensica X


	4. Ch Three Part Two:Planning and Execution

A/N: Part two was written in the same document, at the same time as part one. I split the chapter up to make it less confusing to read. This is told in the **perspective of** **Carl Manning**_**, **_orderly of Mississippi State Lunatic Asylum. And without further ado…

Disclaimer: I never have and never will own anything mentioned in SM's Twilight. I am but a poor student. She is a God. All things referring to "Wonderland" is borrowed from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll (not Disney's _Alice in Wonderland_). I make no profit. Enjoy.

. . . . . . . . .

Chapter Three – Part Two: Planning and Execution

. . .

The house was nearly ready to receive its princess. The last month – so full of planning and execution, had tested my self-control so thoroughly that I worried little for my princess's wellbeing upon her eminent homecoming. I would be able to resist the sweet perfume of her blood. I would successfully bring her out of depression and give her the life she deserved. Perhaps, if we remained together long enough, she would come to love me as I loved her, and…

But I could not think so far ahead now. Repeatedly I beat the poisonous thought away and forced myself to focus on the present.

The house I had chosen stood cloistered within a forest clearing nearly six miles northwest of the New Orleans delta. It had been built at the close of the nineteenth century, not too long before Alice's birth. It was fashioned after many plantation houses of the time: a large, white wraparound porch surrounded the lower level of the house and the French doors of the largest bedrooms opened onto similarly crafted balconies. Elegant pillars of wood framed the top of the front steps.

The little meadow itself overflowed with the promise of growth. In the springtime I imagined that the magnolias that grew around the property would give the place a delicious scent, and the remnants of clover would cover the lawns in a lovely, soft carpet of white, pink, and rich emerald. Other musks and perfumes permeated the fresh little slice of paradise. These, Alice would not come to know but made the location quite a bit more hospitable to my own needs. The earthy scent of deer, rabbits, wildcat – all manner of small beasts, rodents, and fowl – crisscrossed in a mildly appetizing fabric here. Of course, the recent reoccurrence of my scent here would drive away the animals from the immediate vicinity, but they would not travel far. Here, both my love and I would be well provided for.

As sure as I felt of the benefits of secreting Alice away in the house, I could not help but feel nervous in anticipation of completing my plan. As I turned away from my darling's haven, I went through a mental inventory of all the supplies I had amassed and the preparations I had seen to in the past five weeks.

The house now contained nearly a week's worth of fresh foods and several months' worth of canned goods. Furniture had been quietly purchased and delivered the previous week. Linens of the finest quality adorned the beds, accompanied by plush coverlets of goose down. Pillows of the same stuffing in several shapes and size headed each bed. A buyer of French designs had been contacted and contracted for the manufacture of twelve dresses. A department store had sent several nightdresses and undergarments, as well as gloves, hair accessories, beaded bags, and shoes. The garage housed a touring car with considerable horsepower and stability so Alice would be able to learn to drive. The library had been stocked. Several cookbooks had been procured. A piano furnished the main parlor for Alice's musical amusement. My mind now moved to more detail-oriented matters.

I had resigned my position as an orderly of the State Lunatic Asylum the day I promised Alice her release. In more recent days I had quietly met with my former coworkers at the Asylum to drop subtle suggestions, to compel the lower doctors to reinstate the out-of-doors policy just before the season changed. I had, in the cover of night, walked the halls of the whitewashed prison to reassure myself of my decision and my fairy's wellbeing. Outside of these preparations, I had politely dismissed my visitor of several weeks prior. Thoughts of that particular being churned uncomfortably in the hind parts of my mind.

The blond visitor had stayed with me a fortnight from the final days of September through early October after discovering me on a hunting expedition. He had been curious of my activities and my lifestyle, and out of generosity and compassion I had invited him to live with me for a short while. In the middle of his visit I returned to work and he became more interested in my day-to-day goings on. The look in his eyes during that period of his stay unnerved me, but it was not until I hatched my plan that I bid the man farewell. James had been most curious about my intentions.

Strange though I thought it was, I refused to believe that Alice's warnings applied to James. Yes, the man complied with our nature very readily, but it hardly made him a threat to me. Not once had he hunted in town while staying with me. Still, I had withheld the information concerning my new address during the discussions of work and Alice. I had merely bid him goodbye as a precaution to Alice's safety. After all, her allure was particularly difficult to refuse.

It was with a lighter heart that I continued my journey back to Jackson. I kept to the woods and river when I could, and rooftops when I could not, and quickly made my way to the asylum. Now was the beginning of my wait. I perched in a full, healthy pine just outside the courtyard of the medical stronghold, carefully concealed from view. It was Friday, November twenty-ninth. An acquaintance inside had informed me that today all patients would be released into the yard for individual duties and fresh air while the interior of the asylum was hosed down and boarded up for the winter. Today, I would prepare Alice for her exodus and plant the seeds that would ruin the Doctor forever.

I sat perfectly still for hours, and finally, just after noon, the doors opened. Orderlies led the poor creatures outside where they blinked to adjust to the muted gray brightness and complained incoherently of the chill. Some were chained to the flagpole by lengthy shackles, and were instructed to weed the flowerbed. A few others were corralled into raking up leaves. The majority simply stood and chattered (either to themselves or to the nurses) while the orderlies followed the janitorial staff inside to finish the semiannual cleaning. It took me mere fractions of a second to find Alice's lovely face among the rest. Upon entering the courtyard, Alice immediately drifted away from the rest of the patients and came to stand by the wall nearest my perch. Though her eyes were devoid of any emotion, her face turned expectantly toward me. I knew she could not see me from her vantage point, but the strength of her gift still managed to unnerve me slightly. Quietly, I quit my position to make my way to the entrance unseen. The security man allowed me entry, remembering me from my time as an employee, and I began the charade.

"Oh, Mr. Manning! How lovely to see you this afternoon. Are you here to visit everyone before we close down for the winter?"

"Yes, I am, Nurse Casey," I answered in the most charming voice I could muster for the despicable hag. Thoughts of twisting her horrid head one hundred-eighty degrees kept a smile on my face. "I've just been sent word that my thesis was accepted at Harvard Medical so I shall be departing tomorrow. I thought I'd drop by for a final farewell. It has been my second home since the completion of college."

"How wonderful for you, and how nice of you to say good-bye. I'm sure the Doctor will be pleased by your visit, as well. Do you mind bidding your farewells to the patients first? I'm afraid you've caught us on our winter cleaning day," the pug simpered. Being that this was exactly what I wanted and expected, I had few complaints.

"Of course I shall, Madam Nurse. I do hope it goes well for you. Actually, I could look after this group while you attend to more important matters. I'm sure your talents are wasted on these creatures," I said with casual compliment and more than a little of my own compelling charm. The bat complied easily, of course, and went indoors in pursuit of something entirely unrelated to work, I was certain.

Freed of a chaperone, I made my way to Alice's side. Since my subtle entrance, Alice had turned to face me. Her expressionless eyes followed me as I wove my way casually between other, more fortunate souls than she. Elation lifted me for a fleeting moment before her scent, undiluted by the other humans, caught my attention. I froze, and sorrow replaced the joy followed quickly by anger. The odor of barbiturates assaulted my nose, as well as the aroma of her blood and the stink of iodine. Less obvious, the stench of a certain doctor emanated from her.

I tried not to dwell on that fact.

Through her thin dress I could see the outline of her body more clearly than ever, and the jagged lines of her shoulders, torso, and hips frightened me. Her delicately shaped cheekbones jutted against her sallow skin and her rosebud mouth was chapped, swollen, and scabbed. The chaffed surface of the skin of her arms, legs, and face indicated a recent bath, at least. I watched with a little fear as Alice's ruined lips parted.

"You've come to tell me you'll take me away." The scratchy, toneless sound of her voice frightened me far more than her fragile appearance. Where had my chipper little fairy gone?

"Yes, Alice."

"You want to come for me during the night. You want to take me away to somewhere safe tonight."

"Yes." I was glad that my voice betrayed nothing of my emotions. I was more than a little surprised to find her both cognizant and more specific in revealing what she saw. But where was _Alice_? My darling girl had yet to surface in her voice or her eyes.

"You will not."

"Why ever would I lie to you, Alice?" I asked, revealing bewilderment and surprise in my inflection.

"You are being chased," she said with that same blank look, and I finally recognized that Alice had not surfaced because she was hiding, deep within herself. Only the subconscious broke through and spoke out of instinct.

"By whom?"

"_Found you_," she whispered with a strange smile, though her eyes remained black pools of nothingness. A shiver ran the length of my spine and for a moment I imagined that the word was uttered by another voice. And then it was. Soft as a breeze, as quiet as the landing of a dragonfly on a pond, the word drifted to my ears. I looked about quickly, inhaling sharply as I tasted my surroundings. Beyond the flavor of all the patients, of Alice, of the few nurses and the security and the orderlies and the Doctor, was a different scent.

"James?"

My query hung in the air for a moment, then the sound of running in the northwest direction came to me. The scent faded slightly. How odd. Why would my houseguest follow me here? Could it be that I had mistakenly assumed innocence in his asking me about my life here at the asylum? Perhaps he had not been attracted to me by my odd life choices, but by the scent that lingered on my skin, hair, and clothes – the sweetness that was Alice?

The enormity of the possibility weighed on me, and with regret I understood Alice's meaning. I could not, in good faith, come for her if another wanted her blood. I could not provide the safety she needed in such a situation. I needed time. I needed to know for sure. I would not risk my chosen mate's questionable wellbeing for the sake of my personal fulfillment. With a quick glance at my surroundings and confirmation that no one would take notice of my behavior, I gathered Alice to my chest.

"Alice, you must hear me. I am going to take you away from here. I promise I will. But for now you must wait while I determine James' intentions. I must speak with him. Then I will take you somewhere beautiful for you to heal and grow," I whispered into her ear, in case I had misjudged the other vampire's heading and distance. Alice did not so much as shift in my arms, but her slender fingers clenched at my sleeve.

"They have me locked in the dark, Carl Manning," she moaned in the first show of emotion I had yet witnessed. "They have me in a dark, dark place. I can't see anymore. It hurts all the time. He'll hurt me _more_," she breathed so quietly I would have strained to hear her were it not for my enhanced senses. I ached for her pain, but I could see no alternative for now. Soon, so soon, I could keep her from it all.

"Where does it hurt?" I asked in hopes of preparing myself for her treatment. Instead of a direct answer, Alice started mumbling, her face blank again, her hands limply cradling her abdomen.

"He took something from me. Something's gone… It hurts!"

To my horror, she slid a hand between her thighs before her arm slackened and went limply back to her side. She retreated further in on herself. For a moment I struggled to breathe evenly, to keep from slaughtering the entire staff of the damned place, to keep from frightening my Alice further.

It took incredible strength to remove myself from the courtyard. I paid my respects to the Doctor (while cursing him mentally), exited the yard, and rounded the institution to infiltrate the building from the back. I made my way to Doctor Hubert's office, picked the lock, and found his journal. I tucked it into my jacket without opening the offensive document. I removed records, copied his licensing information, and pulled wires out of the Electroshock generator just for good measure. I removed the insulation from the switches and the paddles just incase they managed to put the thing back together. I replaced the Doctor's personal supply of aspirin with Dexedrine. These would be the building blocks to the bastard's disaster.

It took a moment's internal debate before I finally decided to throw the contents of the desk around the room and scar the deadbolt. He could think that a patient or an angry employee broke in during the cleaning. A little fear would do him little harm in comparison to my plans for the _dear_ Doctor.

Retreating from the asylum felt nearly as terrible as denying my bloodlust for the Doctor. The route I chose took me in a cautious loop around the grounds. I moved too quickly for detection, my nostrils flared for the scent of the elusive James. His scent wove a zigzagged path through the woods. The only consistent reoccurrence of his trail passed closest to Alice's barred excuse of a window. My suspicions confirmed I turned to the most recent trail. James' scent led me to central Jackson. Of course, the beast lived up to my first impressions of him. He waited, coiffed in a fine suit, his hair slicked back with copious amounts of hair oil, under the awning of a corner store and café.

"Carl Manning. How nice of you to finally join me," James murmured with narrowed, amused eyes. Anger flared in me again, only slightly easier to contain than before. I did not allow fear to enter into the fore of my thoughts. "I wondered how long it would take you to realize my interests."

"Indeed? I was unaware that our society deteriorated to the point that I should have to vocalize my defense of my chosen interests," I hissed in a barely concealed threat. James' amused expression did not waver.

" 'Defense of your _chosen interests,_' is it?" he sneered. "Is that what you call your perverse involvement with a _human_? I'm merely acting on my _nature_, what should be _your_ nature. Oh, do not misunderstand me. I _had_ little intention of trespassing on your territory. But when I realized that you've no legitimate claim on her – no intention of changing her to join you in immortality, no intention of enjoying her heavenly essence – I decided that it would be a _waste_ of ungodly proportions to allow her to languish," James concluded with a placid smile and a mischievous glint in his cold eyes. I hated that expression with every fiber of my being. While the thought of the Doctor sent me into a bloody rage, the sound of James' sadistic simper and the glint of his eyes sent the tendrils of fear down my spine. But I refused to allow the emotion to show through. Alice needed strength, protection. And this predator would have to be dealt with carefully or I could very well forfeit her life.

"She is _mine_, James," I growled, the threat obvious in my tone. There would be no miscommunication.

"You should have asserted that beforehand. But, in the name of… I suppose you should call it in _thanks_ for your previous hospitality, I think it's only fair that I offer you a head start. Of course, I am coming for Alice, but I give you two weeks to order your affairs. Say your final goodbyes. Whatever you like," James mocked as he stood, folding the newspaper propped on his knee. A flood of cold fear and burning anger coursed through me as the hunter placed his hat upon his head. "Two weeks. Then, neither hell nor heaven nor God himself will keep me from coming. I do hope you try for some creativity though, during your borrowed time. After all, what's a meal without entertainment?"

A truck passed behind me on the street, backfiring loudly. My glance wavered from the blond for a millisecond and when I returned my gaze to its origin, the beast had disappeared.

I could allow myself little time to think. My options flew through my mind at an incredible pace and finally calmed into a plan of action. For now, I would not allow James to force my hand. Alice was right, however: I would not come in two weeks. I had to move her sooner.

From my conversations with James, I had gathered that he was nearly as gifted as I. While I could compel a man to murder his wife – convince him completely that it was the appropriate course of action – James could follow a trail, and avoid capture. But his ability relied on an emotional connection with a person. I had allowed James little access to my mind, and he would only be able to track Alice by scent. James, I knew, would track Alice, as it made the game more challenging to him. The desire to enjoy the _game_ (thinking about her as such a trivial pursuit sickened me) would keep James in calm anticipation for the following fourteen days. He would lounge in some squalid corner of Jackson, hunting by night, and would allow me the promised head start without interference or cheating.

His sense of fair play would be his loss. I began my human-paced walk to my apartment in town as I laid out my strategy. I would lay a false trail away from the asylum in one week. I would take Alice's scent and carry it north, and then east. I would cross the Mississippi, and take the trail as far as a train station, board a Florida-bound train, and slip out of the vehicle half way to my destination. I knew a swamp I could loose my scent in that flowed to the gulf. Swimming back to New Orleans would be tedious, but the journey would be well worth the outcome. I would arrive back in Mississippi before the hunter ever began pursuit.

But before I could accomplish any of that, I had to make sure Alice returned to her room. It must appear as if she still inhabited her original cell. I would compel the Doctor to move her to a padded room deep within the compound then commence laying the false trail. I would rely on her gift to know when to move her. I would compel the Doctor to do that as well. She would leave the compound after James had followed the false lead far enough. For further safety I would pay someone on my train ride to carry Alice's and my garments all the way to the East Coast. Perhaps I would be able to find someone bound for Europe. A soldier perhaps.

My apartment held no evidence of my intentions to relocate, and for this I was glad. My instinctive choice to furnish the house exclusively through buyers and sellers in New Orleans had been the correct one. I was even happier that I had not gone to the house by any means other than boat. James would be hard pressed to even trace _my_ scent that far. Indeed, I would not go there again by any traceable means. Pressing a hard hand to my temple, I settled wearily upon a settee. For the first time in nearly a century I wished for the burn of alcohol in my belly. Such numbing delight would have been greatly appreciated in my mental state. Tonight I would go find the Doctor in his home. I would frighten him. Then I would compel him to move Alice back to her room from whatever dungeon he had her in. He would carry on business as usual but he would not touch my girl again.

I would have him choose a padded cell between the cafeteria and Alice's room, and during my false flight, he would place her there for safekeeping. On that same night, I would have Alice tell me what day I would come for her. Then, on that destined day, he would drive her to one of the many riverboat docks. I would hire an escort to take her down the Mississippi and to the Gulf. Another boat would take her to me. I would remain in New Orleans after landing there. Alice would warn me if James came sniffing about again. But I would win. I had no alternative.

. . . . . . .

A/N: Please do review. As always, happy reading!

Love,

-Forensica X


	5. A Visit to the Doctor

A/N: Warnings for graphic violence, sexual content, and language.** Told** **in the perspective of Carl Manning**_**. **_

Disclaimer: I never have and never will own anything mentioned in SM's Twilight. I am but a poor student. She is a God. All things referring to "Wonderland" is borrowed from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll. I make no profit. Enjoy.

. . . . . . . . .

Chapter Four: A Visit to the Doctor

. . . . . . . . .

Doctor Jean Claude Hubert resided in one of the finest homes in Jackson. A quarter mile from the institution, the brick edifice stood in stark contrast to its dark green surroundings. Stylishly trimmed magnolia trees lined the cobblestoned drive. Rose bushes grew before a backdrop of creeping vine at the fore of the house. The curved front stair led to an entry guarded by limestone pillars.

The stately, respectable, beautiful façade sickened me almost as much as Doctor Hubert's twisted smile.

How glad I was that I had often traversed this path during my employment to the bastard could only be conveyed in the grinding of my teeth and quiet thanks that Alice would soon be in my arms.

I parked my Oldsmobile before the stairs and leapt lightly to the door. Inside, I could hear the foul beast breathing slowly. I glanced at my wristwatch. He was not sleeping. On the lower level, I could hear the light, graceful footsteps of a woman. The bastard's orphaned niece, I presumed. I knocked again. The footsteps quickened in the direction of the front door. A timid, milk-white hand braced the edge of the door as it was pulled open. My expression automatically fell into that of placid charm.

"Good evening, Miss. My name is Carl Manning. I am an acquaintance of your uncle's from the asylum. I have a little bit of business I forgot to attend to before I resigned my position. Is he available?" I offered the young girl my card before kissing her hand. She could not have been more than twelve years old. She blushed and smiled timidly before opening the door wider.

"Do come in, Mr. Manning. If you wait in the parlor I will see if he's available," she said in the same soft tone while showing me into a lavishly furnished room. I was more than a little self-satisfied in the knowledge that my own new parlor outshined even this concoction of mahogany, velvet, satin, and Persian rugs. I followed the sound of the auburn haired, fair skinned child's footsteps up the stairs and down a hall. She stopped, hesitated, took a calming breath, then knocked as her heart rate accelerated slightly. Perhaps she feared the bastard? I would have to inquire as to the sick doctor's relationship with her.

"Uncle Jean," she called timidly, knocking a second time. "Mr. Carl Manning is here to see you."

The light footsteps shuffled forward. Wood and metal springs creaked unpleasantly. A swiveling office chair? Heavy footsteps approached the smaller ones, which responded by backing away.

"Is he really? How rude of him to call without prior notice… Where are you going, little girl?" the Doctor growled. I clenched my hands into fists. The little one's heart sped faster, her breathing became quick, fearful. Heavier breathing interrupted the flighty tempo, words laced through the wet huffing sound. "You will send him up. Then you will go to your playroom to wait for me. Understood, little one?"

The little fearful breaths stopped completely for a moment only to be followed by a quiet sob. Sick bastard. Preying on the weak and defenseless. Toying with _children_. The sound of ruffling clothing and another, louder feminine sob set my teeth on edge. He was _fondling _her.

"Now go."

Rapid little footsteps raced away from the heavy weight, down the hall, and paused on the landing upstairs. Another calming breath and fingers brushing strands of hair into place. Slower footsteps on the stairs. I arranged my facial muscles into neutral pleasantness as the girl entered the room.

"My uncle is pleased to receive you. If you'll follow me."

The wallpaper on the stairwell was a stylishly rich shade of blue. The upstairs hall held evidence of Doctor Jean Claude Hubert's extensive education. Several family portraits accompanied the framed degrees and certificates. The girl stopped before an ornate double door. She knocked lightly.

"Show him in."

She opened the door with hardly a sound and lowered her gaze as she held it for me to enter. I stepped inside and hitched a smile on my face while feigning interest in the impressive bookcases, photographs, and fireplace.

"Thank you, Claire. Come give your uncle a kiss."

The smirk on the bastards face gave me the brief impulse to rip him to shreds. Patience came at the cost of sanity. With wide, fearful eyes and trembling hands, the little girl went to her uncle and gave him a peck on the lips. I watched in disgust as the fine little hairs stood on the back of her little neck. The man – beast that he was – patted her little rump through her fine dress before she fled through the door.

"Isn't she sweet?"

"Indeed," I agreed as calmly as I could manage. I imagined that I seemed rather approving from his eyes. The footsteps of the little girl faded slightly as they flew down the stairs, through the lower level, and then down another flight. The basement. How fitting for a psychotic bastard's "playroom."

"So what brings you to my home this evening, Carl? Did you forget something earlier today?"

Finally I allowed my true emotions to show. My lips curled and I felt immense satisfaction at the sudden flash of fear in Doctor Hubert's eyes. As soon as the emotion registered on his face, I moved without any restraint. He blinked, and I stood behind his chair, my hands caressing his shoulders. He jumped at the chill and my sudden proximity. The wonder and terror on his pockmarked, razor-scarred face made me smile.

"Doctor, I'm here for a little conversation we've needed to have for a while."

"How did you- What? How dare-!" he spluttered. I had no patience left and no reason for restraint. My hand curled around his throat and squeezed just lightly. He gasped as his pulse beat hotly against my fingers.

"Hush. Listen very closely, Hubert. I'm quite shut of your perversions and sadistic little games," I enunciated so softly I was sure that if not for his adrenaline spike he would not have heard. He froze beneath my hand and I delighted at his quickening breath and pulse. "Yes… Yes, I know, Doctor. I know _everything_. I've read your diary. I've seen your heart. And I'm here to collect."

I knew that the melodramatic monologue was hardly warranted in any normal situation; however, human beings feared things more when they were fantastical. And so, I would perform. I would infect the bastard's mind with fear only as the human mind could imagine. I would destroy him with his own essence. He trembled and sputtered incoherently for a few more moments. The only recognizable words pertained to pleas for mercy.

"Ah, ah, ah," I whispered, my hand clamping over his mouth and nose. "Quiet yourself. If I wanted to _kill_ you, I would have done so already."

"Do you mean to blackmail me you, you…" the pathetic little man blustered. He was terrified. I could smell his perspiration, his scotch-laden breath, feel his raised temperature, and hear the frantic pumping of his heart, the twitching of his muscles against his tendons, could hear his rushing heart, see the different thoughts and emotions flashing across his face.

"The word you are searching for is _vampire_, you stupid little pile of filth," I spat with as much disgust as I could muster. His eyes unfocused as I moved and he lost track of me. When he found me again I was comfortably perched on his desk. Flashing my razor-sharp, glinting teeth, I continued "And no, I am not going to drink your blood and steel your soul… yet. I am here with a proposition for you. No. The cleanup would be too much of an inconvenience. No, I want to have a simple conversation with you, Doctor."

Here, I paused to allow Hubert to consider his options. Resignation finally settled on his features and I allowed myself a smile.

"Good choice."

"What is it you want, Manning? Why don't you talk plainly?"

The sharp words did nothing to distract from the perspiration on his brow and the tremor in his tone.

"I want you to move Mary Alice Brandon back to her room. Every day, you will personally escort her from her room to the cafeteria for meals, to the facilities for warm baths and the obvious, and to a padded room between cafeteria and cell of your choosing. You will not give her any drugs aside from mild oral sedatives for sleep. You will feed her three times a day and make sure that she is provided fresh water."

"You came to my home, you are threatening me, sir, over a _woman_? An insane _woman?_"

The disgust laden in his tone drove me over the edge. As soon as I had the urge, Doctor Hubert found himself hoisted three feet off the floor by his throat, my fingers digging dangerously into his neck. I was quite sure that his fragile human skin would most definitely bruise. It was with great restraint that I kept myself from crushing the bastard's windpipe.

"Oh, no, Hubert. I am promising you a great amount of pain if you so much as _piss _in the wrong place because you hurt _my_ woman," I whispered quite calmly. The Doctor, however, took little notice. I suppose, hanging from my death grip, that the physical aspect of my assertion made more of an impression to the man than my words. I let the lump drop back into his chair. He wheezed for a few moments, grasping his throat, before returning his watery-eyed attention to me. "Now are you going to cooperate, Hubert, or shall I begin indulging myself?"

"I… Just don't kill me!"

"Very well then. You shall choose a padded room for Miss Brandon. Something very clean, as comfortable as you can manage. She will not have a straitjacket. She is not to know that we have been in contact. Do you understand? Aside from ceasing your personal indulgences and seeing to her care personally, you will carry on as normal. You may enlist the assistance of others in moving her, as I'm sure by now she instinctively puts up a fight in your presence," I growled quietly. "If by some miracle she emerges enough to ask why, you will not answer."

"Fine, fine…"

"Good. Now. What I am about to impart to you is vital to your survival. If you fail in _any_ way to do what I demand you will die slowly, painfully, and not without a fair amount of humiliation. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Until December eleventh you will follow the normal schedule. Water throughout the day, breakfast, lunch, dinner, medication, bathing, and sleep. On the eleventh of December, you will not return her to the cell in the South Ward. You will take her to the padded room at bedtime. Do you understand?"

"Regular schedule, light sedatives at bedtime and if she has an episode, padded room between cell and cafeteria. December eleventh," the Doctor parroted.

"Good. You may have some usefulness, yet. Now…" I allowed myself a smile as Hubert's face fell and lips tightened into a hard line. "If you complain I shall be very put-out, Hubert."

The sound of nervous swallowing indicated the coward's answer.

"If there are no more complaints, I wish to know about your relationship with Miss Claire."

"My niece?" the Doctor choked out with wide eyes

"Who else, you pitiable fool? Are we mutually acquainted with another Miss Claire? Yes, your niece. Your apparently young niece."

"I am her uncle," he explained slowly.

"An idiot could have gathered that much, you fool," I moved behind the Doctor's chair and placed my hands on his shoulders. His eyes took a moment to catch up to my new position, but fear had already registered in his breathing and pulse. I leaned close to my prey, smiling as he shivered at the feel of my breath as I spoke. "I want to know the nature of your relationship. I want to know why her breath hitches in fear and her hands tremble when you look at her."

"I… You seem to already know."

"Oh, no, Doctor. I wish to know the specifics."

"I plan on marrying her when she is of age! She is my ward! I have done nothing wrong by-"

"By what, Doctor? _Touching_ her? _Raping_ her? _Beating_ the child until she submits to your perversions?" I shouted, my voice gaining volume and coolness as the insect shrank into his chair, sinking lower with each word.

"I…"

"If you touch her again, I shall know. And let's leave this-" I squeezed the doctor's shoulder, pressing my forefinger into his clavicle until I heard and felt it fracture beneath the pressure, "-as a reminder of my mercy tonight. Again. Tell me what you will do for me."

"R-regular schedule. Three meals a day… Daily bath… M-mild sedatives if needed… No.. No indulging!" the man choked through his pain while I depressed the injury.

"Good man… and the date?"

"D-December eleventh!"

I let go and observed the human as he hunched forward, clutching his shoulder, tears rolling down his oily face. I sneered in distaste and took out my handkerchief, wiping my suddenly dirty-feeling hands on the white cloth.

"Remember, Hubert. I will know. And if you fail me, a fractured bone will be the _least_ of your worries. No more toying with your patients or Miss Claire. If you are asked, you crashed your automobile. I shall take care of appearances," I said smoothly. His prized Chevrolet car would indeed suffer injuries tonight. The doctor nodded dumbly and reached for his scotch.

"I'll show myself out. I will send further instructions by messenger."

Hubert made no noise other than to moan and sob and tremble as I made my way down the stairs slower than I would have preferred and followed the little girl's scent to the cellar. There, she waited in a bedroom of sorts with her hands clenched together, the delicate knuckles turning white. I sighed, wishing I could do more for the child.

"You don't have to wait down here anymore, Claire," I said gently, attempting to exude calm and trustworthiness.

"I… Where is Uncle Jean?" she queried fearfully.

"He has retired for the night, Miss Claire. But he asked me to inform you that you are no longer to enter this room. You needn't see to him anymore. No more Uncle-Niece playtime. Understood, little one?" I tried to reassure her. She smiled a little nervously and I returned the gesture.

"Yes. Thank you, Mr. Manning."

"Goodnight, Miss Claire."

"Goodnight, Sir."

With that I exited the house, made a quick stop by the garage (to create the physical evidence to the Doctor's story), and drove away. Now only the decoy remained for me to organize. With the help of the Doctor, Alice's scent would be easily procured. My promised messenger would arrange that business. The drive to the apartment building passed without consequence. I bid my landlady a passing 'good-night' as I ascended the stairs. Nights like these, I wished I could rest my mind in blissful sleep. As I could not, I waited in silence, contemplating the following weeks, and watched through my one window as the sun rose. Throughout the day, I watched as each particle of my dermis refracted the light in beautiful rainbows. I contemplated the possible future. My Alice seemed to be thoroughly embedded in the tomorrow, and I wondered if she could see her fate. Tonight, I would go to her. After the eleventh of December, I would meet her in New Orleans. And then, if Fate decided it, we would remain together. Perhaps, if she desired, for an eternity now that another monster desired her blood.

Clouds obscured the setting sun at half-past seven. I deserted my station at the window as soon as I could no longer feel the heat of the sun. It was close to seven o'clock. The familiar trek to the asylum passed silently. I slipped inside an access door by picking a lock. Once inside, I crushed the lock between my fingers for an easier escape later on, and shut the door silently. The familiar path to Alice's cell took mere moments to traverse. I picked her door easily and slid inside. It was so dark that I doubt Alice could see as I approached her bedside. She crouched in the corner where her bed met the wall. I thought, for a moment, that she slept, but her eyes opened suddenly and her breath quickened. Her lips uttered quiet terrors as she beat her head slowly against the cinderblock wall.

I moved as close as I dared, afraid to put my hand between her precious, bruised temple and the stone. It would be just as hard and just as damaging in comparison to her delicate flesh. I settled for pulling her bodily away from the stone and cradling her against my chest. Her slight weight as she settled against my lap comforted me. I held her head still and stroked her shorn hair. She smelled of Dexedrine.

"He's coming, coming, coming," she whispered while staring blankly into space. I rocked her gently, trying to sooth her.

"I'm going to take you away, Alice," I promised her softly. "Soon, my love, I'll free you."

"Run, run, run!" she hissed from the dark place in her mind. I lifted her slightly, stared into her empty eyes, and willed her to comply with my wishes.

"Alice, listen to me," I compelled her slowly, dropping my voice into the tone that persuaded so many others to do my bidding. "Alice, you have to believe me. I'm going to save you. Come back to me, Alice. Don't look forward. Look at me. Look at now. I'm going to take you away, Alice."

She fixated on my gaze and to my horror, she let loose an agonized wail. She clutched her abdomen as shrill screams spilled from her lips, her eyes wide and haunted, her fingers curling into claws against her rough dress. I watched, frozen in place by her pain, as my Alice clutched at her stomach as if to hold herself together. My heart, still in my chest for nearly a century now, ached horribly as my princess curled in on herself, sobbing. I had overestimated my Alice's strength. I had pulled her from her escape. I had forced her into painful awareness of the trials she had endured, and now I despised myself for it. Carefully, oh-so-carefully, I turned her to face me and stroked her cheeks until she looked hopelessly up at me.

"Make it go away, please make it go away!" she moaned, clutching the sides of her head as she pleaded with me. "Make him stop…! You promised, so make him stop!"

"Shh… Alice, it's just a nightmare," I assured her, my own voice shaking with the tears I could not shed for her. "Go back to where you were, Alice. It's all right. I won't make you stay awake anymore. I promise. Go back to sleep, Alice."

She choked around her sobs until she fell into a fitful sleep. I watched in silence, sometimes wiping a stray tear from her porcelain cheek. When the tears ceased to flow, I rose from my seat at the foot of her bed and alighted from the room.

_Soon,_ I promised myself, _Soon, my love will have no more need for tears_.

. . . . . . .

A/N: Please do review. As always, happy reading!

Love,

-Forensica X


	6. Waiting

Disclaimer: I never have and never will own anything mentioned in SM's Twilight. I am but a poor student. She is a God. All things referring to "Wonderland" is borrowed from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll. I make no profit. Enjoy.

**Told in the perspective of Carl Manning. **

. . . . . . . . .

Chapter Five: Flight

. . . . . . . . .

On the eleventh of September, I entered Alice's cell to find it empties as per my instructions. Her few belongings – a prayer book and the two dresses she had brought with her to the asylum – were in the dresser. I wrapped them in her sheets, glad of the lingering scent of her blood, and began running. I carefully picked a path north, then east toward the train station. I boarded one as soon as I could, Alice's scent strong about me, and rode the trains to Florida. It took nearly two days to reach Fort Lauderdale, where I checked into a hotel. I took two rooms: one for Mary Alice Brandon and one for myself. I purchased several dresses in town and wrapped them up with the bundle I had taken from the asylum. When they held her scent I hung them in the armoire and departed. The boardwalk, by night, was completely deserted of pedestrians. I made my way to a pier, and in moments I was on my way back to the Mississippi delta.

Swimming, it took longer than I would have liked to reach New Orleans. I emerged by night and went to the house. The rest of my plan would be executed as soon as I received word that James had left Jackson. The vampire I had enlisted for this purpose had taken up residency at the asylum before I had settled there for feeding purposes. Whenever a ward of the state was released for prison or a workhouse, he would often relieve them of their tortures. The state never noticed, of course. The man in question had returned to the asylum as a personal favor to me, and would alert me as soon as James took the bait.

In the meantime, I prayed that the blonde bastard lived up to his prideful pronouncements. From what he had admitted during his visit with me, his gift relied on an emotional "read" of his target. Since he was not acquainted with my Alice, he could only track me with his gift, and therefore would have to rely on his scent and instinct. Eventually, he would tire of the game and find her through me, but it would be too late. I would not allow him to destroy my world.

On the sixteenth, the much-awaited call came. David spoke softly and rapidly into the phone and I resisted the urge to force him to talk faster. The damned Texan drawled on as if he functioned on the level of a slug rather than the superbeing he was.

"The tracker's headed east. Got a call from the boys over at the ticket station that a blonde matching our description boarded the Florida line two hours ago. We're all set."

"Wonderful. Can I trust you to deliver her to me? I've hired two seats on a paddleboat."

"So long as you can pay me, Carl, I'm fine with that."

"I've got a better idea, actually, David. You know where the doctor lives?"

"Course I do. Don't we all? The asshole brags about it all the damn time."

"Make it look like an accident, will you? There's a little girl who could use a home if you know anyone."

"I could use a companion. How little's little?"

"Maybe thirteen."

"I'll let her decide."

"Fine. The ticket's open for any day. There's a departure tonight at five. You'll be here by tomorrow if you do. Try not to scare her."

Now, all that was left was to wait. I spent the day pacing as I waited for my Alice. Time was short. It would take only a short while for James to determine that Alice was not in Fort Lauderdale. I had purchased tickets to Africa from Tampa and could only hope that he would spend a day at least investigating that lead.

As the sun rose on December seventeenth, I was happy to finally hear the telltale splash of paddles and water against a small hull. I went to the river and was relieved to see David, sparkling a little in the few patches of sunlight, as he bore my Alice to me in a barely seaworthy canoe. Her small face looked even paler in the sunlight. I ran to them and took her eagerly, nodded briefly to David, and returned to the house in all haste. He turned the boat around as soon as he pushed off and began paddling upstream.

Alice lay quietly in my arms as I carried her through the house. She was clean, at least, and her hair, now grown just past hear ears, shone a little more healthily than it had previously. Now, we had a few days of reprieve. I sat Alice gently in her new bedroom. I had taken great pains to furnish the room with the latest designs from France. My Alice would have the best of everything I could provide, and after a century of life and accumulating money, that was quite a lot. I opened a wardrobe and began browsing through the several dresses I had procured for my princess. They were beautiful things in different shades of lace, silk, cotton, organza, wool, and cashmere. I pulled out a heavier white dress, slip, stockings, and underwear. Alice continued to stare into space as I dressed her in the fine things. I could not help but take a moment to admire the image of her small breasts beneath the slip before slipping the gown proper over her head.

After I was finished, I took great pains to style my little Alice's hair into pin curls and fit a sweet little hat on her head. She continued to stare blankly outward. For the millionth time, I wished that I could have exacted my vengeance on the bastard Doctor Hubert. There was nothing more to do now but wait. _With time, she would emerge. She had to._ With that in mind, I positioned Alice before the fireplace, lit a cozy little fire, and went downstairs to prepare a meal for her.

The day passed without incident. And the next. The following day, I received a package in the mail from David. Inside was enclosed a letter of thanks written in the dainty script of Miss Claire. In addition to the note, David included a newspaper clipping. The photograph depicted a man apparently mauled by wild animals during a hunting excursion. I delighted in the scene of gore, noting that the bastard's innards had been splattered across the scene. David gave me further satisfaction by detailing his enjoyment of the late Doctor. Apparently, little Claire had been the one to actually _drink_ from the beast. I hoped she enjoyed her first hunt. I had also hoped that the pronouncement of the hated doctor's death would at least break little Alice from her shell, but she neither reacted nor seemed to see _anything_.

The days passed into a week.

The weeks became a month.

Still, no word from James, and I grew more and more impatient. I _wanted_ my little princess. I wanted to taste her lips again. I wanted to hold her in my arms. I wanted to love her. As the days went by and my precious girl failed to speak but to mutter her glimpses of the future, I considered many a time whether or not I should change her and be done with it. But if I did so, would she remain in this state of catatonia? I did not want to make the choice _for_ her if it was unnecessary.

And then there was the problem of _after_. How would I know that she would want my company after she had her newborn strength, her beauty restored, her body healed and strong? It was entirely possible that my Alice merely pretended affection for me during her incarceration. Now that she was free, there was no guarantee that the girl would want me. After all, I was a monster, an abomination, and I was more than a century her senior. Without all that, I looked to be in my late twenties.

Two months after her deliverance, I came to the conclusion that James would soon be coming, and that Alice would not wake from her self-imposed slumber. Therefore, if I wished to embrace her, I should go on and do so. Then, I would change her, and allow Alice to make the decision herself. So, with greatest care, I laid my Alice on her bed that night. I undressed her slowly, and kissed her unresponsive lips.

I imagined myself the handsome prince come to wake the sleeping beauty from her spelled sleep. In the months since her captivity, her body had grown to its normal proportions. No longer could I easily count the shape of her ribs by eye. Her soft, slim belly only bore the single T-shaped scar rather than the multitude of bruises that had previously decorated it. Her slender thighs parted easily upon my gentle guidance. Guilt, coupled with fear rose objections in my mind but I pushed them aside as I beheld her beautiful body. Her lovely sex, once bare of any shadow of down, now bore a healthy amount of black curls. I buried my nose in them, inhaling her delicate feminine scent. To my surprise, Alice jerked as I tasted her.

I sat up, hopefully scanning her face for her to resurface. Disappointed, I returned to my pleasure. She tasted so incredibly _sweet!_ For minutes, or maybe hours, I satisfied myself with tasting her treasures and enjoyed the physical responses she gave me. When she was finally glistening with her own feminine desire, I stripped myself of my own clothing and knelt between her legs. I pushed aside guilt and doubt once more as I looked down at her tiny body. I cupped her small breasts, massaged them lightly, and tried to ignore the vacant stare of her eyes. A part of me imagined them to be accusatory, but I paid no heed to that.

Slowly, I guided myself into her hot depths. She felt so _warm_, so _alive!_ Even in this state, her body responded by clenching around me and trembling. I moved against my love as I cradled her to my chest. I laid soft kisses against her lips, jaw, and throat, pausing over and over at the place I would soon bite.

I restrained myself to keep from hurting my Alice's fragile body as I made love to her. She felt so soft in my arms. So _breakable!_ Little gasps of breath left her lips as I moved deeper into my love. The sudden scent of her blood alerted me to my overzealousness and I quickly sank my teeth into her throat. I would not cause her undue pain and I would have her _alive_ again at my side! She would hold me in her arms by her own volition! I would be rewarded for my patient care of her and my tender love of her beautiful body.

As soon as I pulled my lips away from the slender column of her neck, I became aware of laughter, deep and frightening, from outside.

_James_ _had found us_.

. . . . . . .

A/N: Please do review, especially if you favorite. That warm fuzzy jumpy anticipation you get in your tummy when you realize your favorite story or book has been updated or has released a sequel is the equivalent of the feeling I get when I see the little number counter on my reviews go up! It's depressing to see that at least 15,000 have read my other work at least a little and only 67 people have seen fit to review it. I don't even know if I'm doing something right or wrong that so few leave me remarks. Anyway. As always, happy reading!

Love,

-Forensica X


	7. Tomorrow

Disclaimer: I never have and never will own anything mentioned in SM's Twilight. I am but a poor student. She is a God. All things referring to "Wonderland" is borrowed from _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll. I make no profit. Enjoy.

. . . . . . . . .

Chapter Six: Tomorrow

. . . . . . . . .

_Part One: James_

I couldn't believe, when I first found the house, that the Dear Mr. Manning had thought himself so high and mighty in his gallant rescue of the fair maiden. There he was, taking her in his arms, _raping_ the woman he proposed to love in her unconscious state. The hypocrisy of it made me laugh.

But then he bit her and I saw red. The girl was supposed to be _mine_! Infuriated by his _cheating_ me, _cheating_ the game, I began the chase. Manning ran from the house, then west, then north. He was faster than I, but I no longer desired to hunt. I wanted the joy of ripping the bastard to shreds for cheating me of my fun.

I followed him for nearly three days, but he foolishly ran for the Asylum, which had been temporarily closed at the death of the head doctor. I smelled smoke. I thought it funny, really, that he figured he could burn me before I caught up to him. His attempts at defending himself would be in vain. With my thirst for the Alice girl still on my tongue, I hunted down the hastily dressed Mr. Manning. I found him in the basement of the facility, a fire burning just behind him.

Catching him was too easy. Subduing him was even easier. I held him to the floor, one foot on his chest as I yanked hard on his arm. It made a sound of protest and I laughed.

"You sick little liar," I laughed at the struggling man as I tore his arm from his torso and tossed it into the roaring flames. Billows of purple smoke rose, obscuring his face for a moment as I laughed. "You're just as bad as that Doctor Hubert. I heard all about that, you know. From the nurses when I was doing recon around here. He liked to play with her little cunt, too, didn't he, Manning?"

"You… You can't hurt her now," Manning spat through his obvious pain. I picked him up by the throat and slammed his disgustingly pretty head against the wall. Bits of concrete rained down on us both from he impact, and crumbled to the floor from the crater left by his skull.

"No, I don't think I can. Nor will I… You've ruined all my fun, you know?"

I tore his other arm from his body, delighting in his screams. I began working on his legs, next. He was just a stump now. The smoke in the room smelled so delightfully sweet I wanted to puke.

"Imagine what she'll think when she wakes up, _if _she remembers what you did to her… Such an angelic little girl… and you _fucked_ her because you got impatient, didn't you, Manning?"

"I've changed her. It's too late! You can't have her!" Manning screamed, delirious now with the pain of his missing limbs. I chuckled, unable to stifle my amusement at the pathetic creature. With a twist of my hands, his head went flying, severed from his torso. I took great pleasure in shredding the rest of him slowly, watching Mary Alice Brandon's blood drip out of Manning's disemboweled carcass. A few more moments of playing with his pieces before I pushed them unceremoniously into the fire and left.

I would have to find my amusement elsewhere.

_Part Two: Alice_

When I opened my eyes I was astounded to find a world of color around me. Rainbows of light exploded around everything I saw. It was so _pretty!_ I could not help but marvel at the streams of dust motes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. They sparkled like individual stars in a galaxy of beauty, and it took all of my effort not to stare forever.

But sooner than I would have liked, I could not ignore the strange burning in my throat. Eager to douse the fire burning there, I rose from my position – I had been spread out on a beautiful bed – and spun toward a set of French doors. I slid into the sunlight and gasped as the warm light refracted on the surface of my skin. A million rainbows danced before my eyes! Giddy with excitement and reveling in the beauty, I spun in a circle, laughing and twirling faster.

Oh, what a laugh! It spilled from my lips and sparkled like a crystal wind chime! But now, again, the strange burn at the back of my throat pulled me reluctantly from my happiness and drove me through the white doors. The door handle, which I had thought to be holding gently, compressed like warm putty in my hand. It occurred to me that if a mere touch could crush brass, then if I _attempted_ strength I may very well destroy the world itself.

The ridiculousness of it made me smile again. Outside, I inhaled the lovely scent of salt and pine and sunshine. I detected the scent of something so cloyingly sweet… Like a fine perfume, that I paused. It lingered in the air, as if a lovely gentleman had been waiting below the balcony to call on his lady. And there was a headier scent… Heavy and seductive… Warm…

"_Blood_," I whispered into the air. The utterance shocked me into stillness as a whirlwind of colors and images swam before my eyes. I watched, amazed and horrified, as things, events I _knew_ to be sure to come, blinded me from the world around me. It was the strangest sensation! I could _see_ everything still – the sunshine, the expansive green lawns stretching to a fringe of trees below the balcony, the bluish sky, the strange spectrum of color ranging from most brilliant gold to the strange, not quite violet color I could not name – but in my mind, in my immediate awareness, I witnessed a phantasm!

_A beautiful blonde face, scarred irreparably with a million crescents, smiles at me adoringly. Another blonde, more honey-toned than the other, welcomes me with open arms. Hunting beautiful lions and bears, the hot flavor of rich carnivore's blood-_

I frowned at that flavor, that scent, and remembered it distinctly as I sniffed the air. Something _musty_ but warm and wet smelling caught my senses and I was off like a shot. Gone behind me were the beautiful house and its bed. I ran, constantly delighted by the velvety feeling of the ground beneath my feet, and the gentle tickle of underbrush caressing my arms and legs as I flew past. My pursuit brought me to crouch in the boughs of a tree. Below me, the warm thump-thump of four deer hearts made my mouth fill with the sweet taste of something poisonous. I sat for a few moments, admiring the deer's beautiful pelts. Two of them were barely walking, it seemed. They had a pretty collection of white spots powdering their graceful backs.

I frowned as one lifted its nose. Could it smell me? I assumed it must, because I smelled _them_ quite easily. Fearful of losing the balm to my burn, I leapt lightly from the tree and pounced on the nearest doe. It was with great surprise that I again found my vision somewhat obscured by the flash of _future_ in the forefront of my mind. I saw the rest of them fleeing right and left, and instinctively, before they could flee from their grazing place, I had snapped their necks and frozen their flight.

Happy that I had four warm deer to sate my thirst, I settled to drink. The flavor felt _wrong_, somehow, but another moment of _things to come_ stalled my instinct to find something tastier. I knew that _that_ would only cause me pain. I knew, that in order to be with the battle-scarred angel and the honey-father (as I had dubbed the honey-blonde man with the compassionate smile), I would have to resist.

Happy to have a course of action, I lifted my head and sniffed out another semi-appealing scent.

For several sunrises, I hunted the woods, vaguely aware that I had begun moving north with the urging of my Sight. It showed me snow, and I knew that wherever I was could not bear snow despite the frost on the ground in the mornings. My Sight warned me when my actions would bring me too close to tastier things, and I would avoid them. But at night, when _they_ were happily asleep, I would dance through their towns and pause before the darkened windows. The first time I did so, I stood entranced with my reflected image so long that I missed the approach of one of those tastier creatures. The boy had beautiful chestnut hair and round, wide, blue eyes. He stared at me and made a sign across his chest as I danced toward him.

"Are… Are you an angel, Miss?" He gasped.

"I wouldn't think so," I answered, fingering my short hair. It was hardly longer than his. I wondered how other females styled their hair. I Saw that my future companions wore it longer. Why wasn't mine like that? "Tell me, do you have anything to teach me about… now?" I begged, grasping the boy's hands. He flinched and I realized that he felt so incredibly hot against my palms that _I_ must feel like ice to _him_.

"N-now, Miss?" He sounded so dreadfully confused. Was my question that odd?

"Yes, please. Tell me something about _today_," I specified, dancing in what I perceived to be a slow circle around him. The boy whipped his head around to find me in the exact place I started. I couldn't help but laugh at his bewildered expression.

"M-miss, please, you _must_ be an angel, or…You could not… Urm… You couldn't be something _evil_, Miss, could you?" the boy asked with wide, nervous eyes. They darted from the top of my head to my toes and I giggled again as a dark flush crossed his cheeks. I sighed a little, struggling with myself over his delicious scent. It was just so _appealing_. But he still waited for my answer, so I responded with an inviting smile and a brush of my fingertips across his cheek.

"I promise I'm not _evil_," I said slowly, pausing as I focused on _him_. My Sight sped forward and I fished his introduction from my mind. "Benjamin, I'm not evil," I said with a smile. "Just different than you are!" I laughed, throwing my arms around his shoulders. He was not much taller than I. Nervously, it seemed, he wrapped his arms around my waist and shivered in my cold embrace.

"I'm glad of that, Miss. I think I would have trouble accepting it even if you told me you are… Um… What do you want to know about today, Miss?" He asked, blushing as he pulled out of my arms, unwilling to look at me. I giggled and led him by the hand to a street-side bench, just out of the reach of a lamp.

"Anything," I answered, kicking my feet back and forth. They missed the cobblestoned sidewalk by at least three inches. Benjamin stared at my pale feet as I stared at the beautiful moon. Its light sparkled strangely on my skin. Not quite refracting, but shimmering with a mysterious luminance.

"Well," he started slowly, pulling a thick fold of paper from his vest. "This was from today's news."

"News?"

"Newspaper. It's the St. Louis Gazette."

"_Oh_," I said in realization, watching what he would show me _later_. It occurred to me how strange it was that I used my gift for _tomorrow_ to learn about _today_. He unfolded the sheet and showed me a picture of a somewhat stocky man in a striped uniform.

"Who's the… 'Sultan of Smack?'" I frowned at the sound of the words. They seemed to mean more to me than they should have. Perhaps I had _seen_ him before and had not recognized him.

"That's Babe Ruth, Miss!" Benjamin gasped in honest surprise and no small amount of indignation. "He's becoming the Yankee's star hitter!"

"For what?"

"Baseball!"

"Oh, I _need_ to show you baseball, Miss!" Benjamin cried, his heart racing with excitement, the flush coming back to his face. I could not help but laugh in delight at his apparent happiness.

"If you think you should, I'm willing to learn!" I laughed with enough excitement to match his.

"Sure! But, urm…" he paused, blushing again as his gaze traced my figure. I frowned down at my body. It _did_ seem that no one else ran around without clothing, but I didn't _need_ it… And if I _did_, I hadn't a clue how to find any.

"I'm not dressed," I stated evenly. The boy nodded, blushing darker. I resisted the urge to laugh at something that seemed to bother him so much.

"Well… My sister won't notice if I borrow a dress. Come on!"

So I followed the boy at an obscenely slow pace down an alley and behind a high fence. He found a loose section and slipped inside with briefly uttered direction to stay hidden. I did so happily enough, humming some tune I remembered hearing from one of my visions.

"What's that you're humming Miss?" Benjamin called as he squeezed back through the opening.

"I'm not sure," I replied in smiling honestly as I pulled the offered dress over my head. It was a plain cotton construction with a dropped waist that fell a few inches above my ankle. I smiled, twirling and delighting in the feel of the pleated skirt flaring out. I laughed and Benjamin smiled at me before taking me by the hand and leading me away again.

"I'm sorry I couldn't bring you shoes, too," he called over his shoulder as he dragged me into the woods. "They're too expensive to borrow," he explained apologetically.

"It's alright, Benny," I laughed, dancing along beside him. He smiled at me and I delighted that I made him happy. I wanted everyone to be happy. I wanted to smile forever. "The grass feels like velvet, anyway!"

He looked at me strangely for a moment before shrugging it off and laughing with me again. I ran slowly beside him until he stopped at a square-ish field. Benjamin perused the edges of the field, I searched for the reason and Saw that he sought a thick, arm-length stick. I assisted his search and eventually snapped a low-hanging bough of a spruce. Deciding from the flavor of my vision that he wanted something smoother, I stripped it of any foliage and presented it to him.

"Perfect! Now," Benjamin picked up a pinecone and pressed it into my hand. "You stand there on that little hill."

"Okay!" I called, reaching the mound of dirt before he finished speaking.

"Oh, wow… um, and I stand here," Benjamin sounded a little more cautious as he stood in front of a white pentagon. He held the stick with his hands together at the base, swinging it back and forth before allowing it to rest just above his right shoulder. "Now," he continued, "You through right over this white plate."

I threw the pinecone in a graceful arc over the plate. He never looked away from me. A moment later I realized I had forgotten myself again and he hadn't seen the pinecone move.

"Oops," I pouted as his head spun to see the pinecone crush itself into debris against the chain-link fence behind him.

"Holy… Miss, you could outpitch the Sultan like that!"

Thus began our night. The boy had me show him how fast I could throw, and I reveled in being able to play with my strength. It felt so _infinite_ that I often became fidgety on my own! I loved being able to show off. As the sun began to rise I grew more silent, and the boy, rubbing his eyes, frowned.

"I'm not going to see you again, am I?" said Benjamin in obvious disappointment.

"No, I don't think you will," I answered a little sadly. I kissed Benjamin's cheek and he blushed for the fourth time since I met him.

"Well… Take this."

The boy held out a dog-eared card. The black-and white depiction of a man named Honus Wagner confused me a moment before I realized that the word "Pittsburg" emblazoned across his chest must designate him as a baseball player. I frowned as I stared at the card, and allowed my Sight to overtake me. I saw a man holding up this same card, proclaiming it to be worth two hundred thousand dollars. I giggled and pushed the card back into my new friend's hand.

"Keep it. That'll be worth _a lot_ of money some day," I said with a smile. "Trust me."

"If you say so… but… I don't want you to forget me if you're going back to_… _wherever you're from."

"I promise, Benny, I won't."

And I didn't.

With Benjamin's helpful introduction to the _now,_ I began taking newspapers, gathering up any coins I could find. I learned how to style my hair like other girls of the _now_, and forgot to feel strange for not having as much as the women I saw in _tomorrow_. I made my way north with my visions and found myself a pair of shoes to wear. Soon enough I had purchased my first dress. Some time later, a man with a well-worn fedora and a sketchbook offered to draw me in exchange for money, and I began modeling for photos as well. Soon enough, I had acquired enough to invest. In New York City, I encountered others like myself, but who hunted humans. I wondered briefly if I had been created by another or had just _become_. But the thought soon left my mind as I discovered the game of stocks. For days, I stayed in a let apartment in Queens, Seeing what would become of Wallstreet, as the men in the snazzy suits called it. I watched in the newspapers and discovered how to make money in that way, so, in 1928, I began buying stocks through one of the suited boys. September 1929, I called him from my much-improved apartment in Manhattan and informed him that he would sell every last thing I owned. And he did, and suddenly, I found myself with more money than I knew what to do with.

I began enjoying life as I waited for more clues to my battle-scarred blonde and the honey-father. Years passed. I migrated every few years from town-to-town.

In 1940 I began having day-mares. They pressed upon my mind so heavily that I could do nothing to distract myself from them. Lines of people died before my eyes and I _knew_ where, I _knew_ how, but I also knew that if I tried to change it, something horrible would happen to me. Frightened of the _unknown Kings_ on the fringes of my Other Conscious, I satisfied myself by going to France with a small fortune in my steamer trunk. I went to southeast France and learned the language, and began assisting the smugglers.

I could not _stop_ what I Saw… but I could help those who escaped on their own without being caught. And I did. I helped lovers find each other and escape to the United States. I helped enemies of the Third Reich run. It was here that I allowed myself to indulge the thirsty part of myself. I could _see_ the officers that did evil things because they were _bad_. There was one officer, a Herr Myer, who would promise to help young women leave France in exchange for "personal favors." The young ladies in question would never reappear after visiting Herr Myer's personal quarters. When I searched for them in _tomorrow_, I would find a face among a crowd of people, crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in a cattle car, on her way to Germany. Herr Myer was my first indulgence of vengeance.

The night I killed him, I danced into his room as if _I_ wished to escape, and I showed him the pain I had Seen him inflict on the others he intended to entrap. Then, I drank my fill and disposed of his body. When rumors of an allied "assassin" made its way through the town, I fled.

On V-day, I celebrated just as enthusiastically as the rest of America. In 1947, my day-mares were replaced by flashes of the beautiful battle-scarred warrior. Excited by the prospect of having a companion, I began making my way south from New York. Pennsylvania provided more options as far as hunting went. I enjoyed myself between stints living in Philadelphia. I could See that he would come here!

_Muted light streams through the windows. Sheets of rain make delightful pitter-pattering sounds against the glass and concrete. The scent of strawberries, chocolate, and pancake batter permeates the air. A man in a paper cap offers me a strawberry malt milk shake with a smile. The clock above the stainless steel counter ticks slowly. Other patrons sip coffee or eat pancakes or sandwiches with languid slowness. Time stills even further as the bell above the door tinkles. _

_The battle-scarred blonde walks forward. I spin on my bar stool and hop off, smiling. _

"_You've kept me waiting a long time," I say, smiling up at my tall warrior. He seemed worried, but ducked his head and smiled back tentatively. _

"_I'm sorry, ma'am."_

_I smiled gently, feeling complete as he grasped my proffered hand. He smiles hopefully, and I offer him my umbrella. _

I _wanted_ it so badly! I took the apartment directly above the malt and soda shop. Impatiently, I listened to the radio and read the newspaper. I watched the sky by day, hoping against hope that the sun would be blotted out long enough for rain. For a year, I went down to the diner whenever the clouds were out, and prayed for the rain. After the fifth time, Mr. Katz, the owner, asked me why I came.

"I'm waiting for someone," I said a little sadly. It was January, and snow fell outside. And though it made for beautiful scenery, I knew that my warrior would not come in snow.

"Who, if you don't mind me asking?" Mr. Katz queried, pushing a coffee toward me. I sipped a little of it out of curiosity and very bravely ignored the horrible taste. I preferred _richer_ beverages. Much like Mr. Katz… But he was too nice, and I was very used to being good.

"I don't know, really. But he's tall, and blonde, and a veteran."

"Ah… So you're in love?" Mr. Katz asked with a knowing smile. I frowned, contemplating that word.

"I _think_ I _might_ be," I said slowly, wondering at the word "love." "I'm not really sure what that is." I began playing with the edge of my skirt. It always amazed me how short they had gotten in just two decades. My pleated skirt fell just past my knees.

"Well, missy, no one really knows, do they? But I like to think I was in love once," said Mr. Katz thoughtfully as he dried the inside of a malt glass. "I thought about her all of the time. And I did crazy things," he continued with a laugh. "I did something like you seem to be doing now. I waited outside her window for days before we started going together."

"The thing is, Mr. Katz," I frowned, "I've never met him. I just _know_," I continued, looking up at him pleadingly in hopes he would understand.

"Well…" he began sympathetically, "I hope he comes, then."

January passed into a colder February. With March came more rain and I spent day after day inside the Diner. It was 1948. My visions of the warrior – Jasper, as I had come to know him from the brief flashes of _tomorrow _– became stronger and more frequent. I began to despair that he would never come! What would I do? I felt a dreadful, wrenching emptiness inside my chest at that thought. Thinking such awful things, worrying incessantly, I began to lose track of time. I began to feel the hours stretch infinitely outward, and I waited and waited. The rain started every so often, and I barely noticed. I had heard it so many times before. I glanced up at the clock as Mr. Katz slid me a strawberry malt milk shake. I wondered why he continued to give them to me. I never drank them anymore. I grew tired of having to dispose of them in private. The bell over the door tinkled, and the sweet cloying scent of _my kind_ pulled me from my misery. I spun in my seat, immediately smiling, and hopped down from the stool as the battle-scarred blonde brushed a few raindrops off his shoulders and sleeves.

He was so incredibly _beautiful_ in person! His lovely eyes were dark, dark enough that the humans wouldn't be able to detect the hint of burgundy within them. He must have incredible self-control, incredible _age_ to be here with so many scars and that telltale sign of his traditional diet. I smiled radiantly as I skipped to his side.

"You've kept me waiting a long time," I gasped in relief, looking up at him adoringly. I felt so incredibly _complete_ standing before Jasper. Just like in my wonderful visions, he ducked his head and briefly hid his expression of bemusement.

"I'm sorry ma'am," he said in his lovely southern drawl. I reveled in the sound of it! Even though he was so tense, so confused, it seemed, he sounded confident, protective, warm… _This_ is what I wanted. And I would have him! I had to!

I held out my hand in an invitation, and Jasper took it without hesitation. I handed him my umbrella and he obligingly opened it as we walked out onto the street together, hand-in-hand.

The bell chimed behind us as the door swung shut. I inhaled the lovely scent of the rain, and of Jasper, and of _us_ together, as new visions, brighter, happier ones, swam just behind the now. For the first time, though, they didn't overwhelm me. Jasper had become my anchor.

"Jasper," I began, looking up at my nervous companion with a smile. _Jasper bends on one knee, diffused sunlight glancing off his sculpted face mesmerizingly. He holds up a small velvet box._ In the _now_, Jasper gazed into my face with open curiosity. I could feel my lips stretching into a brilliant smile as my heart soared.

"Jasper," I began again, "Do I really have to wait for you to take me to Tiffany's, or can I take you there now?"

Jasper's eyebrows rose and I laughed. It was not long until he joined me, and then I led him down the street, around the corner, and then we were running. We ran faster than I had ever run on my own, as our umbrella was abandoned somewhere behind us, as the sweet, warm rain caressed our smiling faces, as our fingers interlocked tightly, permanently, binding us together for now and forever.

Fin.

. . . . . . .

A/N: Thank you for reading, and reviewing. Hope you enjoyed!

Love,

-Forensica X


End file.
